


Notices in the Paper

by YamBits



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fluff, Humor, M/M, bagginshield, parentshield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23086261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YamBits/pseuds/YamBits
Summary: Bilbo returns to the Shire after his adventure, newly married, and newly homeless, after his two year absence allowed the Sackville-Bagginses to obtain Bag End. Bilbo and Thorin go to the Tooks for help, and find newly orphaned Frodo Baggins, also looking for a home.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins & Frodo Baggins, Bilbo Baggins & Frodo Baggins & Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 128
Kudos: 515





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The main au point is that Thorin lived and married Bilbo. But also, the canon timeline is completely thrown out and Bilbo’s feral energy is cranked up to 11- since he never had to experience the pain of losing anyone on the journey, there’s little to dampen his temperament. Also, I don’t know how plausible it is for Thorin to just go back to the Shire and live with Bilbo, since I’m not Read Up on Bagginshield, but I like it.
> 
> Special thanks to all the 18th and 19th century people who published petty, gossipy, judgmental notices in the local newspaper.

> _LET IT BE KNOWN_
> 
> _That the obituary printed in this paper’s death notices on the ninth day of August, 1342 for BILBO BAGGINS, was a PREMATURE OBITUARY that the said hobbit is not deceased, and is in fact, alive. In addition, he asks that the editor print a notice of his marriage, to one Mr. Thorin Oakshield, a dwarf of some note from the Outside. Parties wishing to send congratulations may address post to Bilbo Baggins, ℅ The Proprietor of the Ivy Bush, Hobbiton._
> 
> _The Editor is also informed by Mr. Baggins of other sundry supposed errors printed in his obituary, which he strongly objects to and wishes to have retracted. Several of the claims cannot be verified at this time, but when Certain Matters are cleared up, be assured that our paper will print a full and fair accounting of the matter._
> 
> -Dick Proudfoot, Editor of the _Hobbiton-Bywater Weekly Leader_

“Certain Matters cleared up!” Bilbo shouted, and shook his newspaper at Dick Proudfoot, who sat across from him, braced against Bilbo’s fury. Beside Bilbo was a large dark haired dwarf, who observed the hobbit with a serious air. At Bilbo’s raised voice, several patrons turned to look at him, but Bilbo went on, oblivious. “Dick Proudfoot! Your father would be ashamed that the paper has become such a rag!”

“Mr. Bilbo, that’s not a nice thing to say,” Dick said.

“Well it’s not nice to print half truths and obfuscation! And,” Bilbo leaned across the table and banged his fist on the table, making the plates jump, “you spelled my husband’s name wrong! And this whole thing- a dwarf of some note- what is that? I clearly told you he is King Under the Mountain! Successful leader of the lucky number company, victor at the battle of the five armies, eagle guest, elf “guest”, slayer of the goblin king, and he who reclaimed his ancestral home from Smaug the terrible!”

“Gandalf slew the goblin king,” Thorin said distractedly.

“Hm? Oh, well. I wasn’t there for that part,” Bilbo turned and eyed Dick with morbid glee, “I was busy then, _playing riddles with a cave lake murder cannibal in utter darkness_.”

“Oh. My. Word,” Dick muttered, horrified.

“In any case,” Bilbo went on, “I’m quite sure I spent some time detailing my husband’s deeds and reputation.”

“Aye, yes, you did at that,” Dick agreed and glanced nervously at Thorin. The dwarf though didn’t look offended in the least. He looked more interested in the serving staff, bring out plates of food. Apart from that, he would glance adoringly at Bilbo ever so often. “My readers don’t know what all that is about,” Dick said quickly, “I did the best I could, Mr. Bilbo. You know I weren’t trying to slight you, nor you, Mr. Thorin.” Bilbo huffed and sipped his tea. Thorin smiled.

“Alright,” Bilbo said tightly, “but then I want to know why you didn’t print a retraction about the Sackville-Bagginses being my heirs. That is clearly not true.”

“You say that,” Dick said, wincing as he did, “but I was at the Town Hole when Mr. Otho was appointed administrator or your estate. What with you dying without a will and all,” the young hobbit winced at Bilbo’s flush of fury and corrected himself quickly, “I mean! Going off for a bit. And. And. Being intestate. As it were.”

“Intestate implies that I died,” Bilbo said between his teeth.

“Lor' Mr. Bilbo, what do you want me to call it then?” Dick asked testily.

“Horseshit.”

“I can’t print that and you know it.” Dick sighed, “Look here, how is what I print going to make a difference? If you’re all het up about the Sackville-Bagginses owning Bag End now, then going after me ain’t going to make a difference. It’s the Mayor and Town Hole you need to be at.”

“I have been there,” Bilbo said icily.

“You see, Mr. Proudfoot,” Thorin said, turning his full attention to the young hobbit for the first time. Dick tensed under the scrutiny of those dark eyes. “The court will not take any action unless my husband is declared alive.”

“Aye?” Dick said carefully.

“It will be helpful in our case to have a notice of his return and that he will be returning to his rightful home. We need that printed in the legal organ newspaper of the Farthing of Residence.”

“I printed that he come back, didn’t I?”

“You wrote it to be more like a society notice,” Bilbo huffed.

“You got married Mr. Bilbo. That’s what folks will be wanting to know about.”

“It’s a retraction of an obituary. It’s not the same as saying that I am entitled to my name and property and that the Sackville-Bagginses must leave.”

“I printed you was not dead,” Dick sighed and stood, “That’s legal notice. Tis what we agreed on. The other bit- that you are who you say you are and you’ve a right to your name and property, that’s up the courts. Not me. I can’t make them say you have a right to it all. And I sure can’t print that the Sackville-Bagginses have until the end of the month to leave Bag End.”

“The courts are unfortunately, a bit slow-moving with these sorts of things, as I understand it,” Thorin said carefully.

“I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh bother it all,” Bilbo sighed, “I’m sorry I’m being so unreasonable with you Dick. I’m just very frustrated.”

“That’s understandable, sir,” Dick said.

“He worked so very hard to give me back my home,” Thorin said, putting his hand on Bilbo’s shoulder. Bilbo turned to look up at him, “and now, my dear has lost his own.” Thorin turned to Dick, “Perhaps you cannot compel these interlopers from my husband’s home, but I wonder if it wouldn’t be appropriate to give them some warning. I will see him returned.” Thorin returned his gaze to Bilbo and they shared a look between them. Dick was both flustered by the threat and warmed by the obvious devotion between the two.

“Ah. Well, sir,” Dick said, “I think you are better equipped to deliver that warning than I am,” he said diplomatically. “I do wonder,” he added, “if you’ve thought of going to the Thain?”

“The Thain?” Bilbo said slowly, removing his gaze from Thorin with some difficulty.

“Aye. The words of a newspaper hobbit are one thing. The Thain’s another. Maybe he could work up some kind of… proclamation?”

“Oh,” Bilbo blinked. “Proclamation…?”

“I thought the Mayor was in charge of the Shire?” Thorin said slowly, frowning, “who is the Thain?”

“Sort of… a… another ruler,” Bilbo said, distractedly, “Head of the Tooks.”

“Another ruler,” Thorin said slowly, “are there ever wars between them?”

“Of course not!” Nick said disdainfully.

“There was that thing about who could preside over the harvest fair, remember,” Bilbo said, conscientious that he did not misrepresent hobbit society. “Who got to crown the holly king, who makes the first toast at Yule and who at Lithe. And who gets to make speeches at high feast.” He frowned. “I could settle that. Usurp that duty. I wonder if they could stop me…”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“That’s alright,” Bilbo said kindly, “it’s a complicated bit of hobbitry.”

Thorin was silent, pondering this. He took his mug and sipped in silence.

⁂

“You may not have helped your case, stealing that spoon,” Thorin murmured.

“It’s my damned spoon,” Bilbo growled. They were walking down the Hill, heading back to Bywater. They’d made one more attempt to appeal to Lobelia and Otho’s sense of familial fairness. It hadn’t worked.

“Well your cousins won’t be shifted in any case.”

“It would take a dragon to run the Sackville-Bagginses off. And it would be a near thing,” Bilbo grumbled. Thorin didn’t look amused. Bilbo sighed and continued, “But I think an order from the Thain will be difficult for them to ignore.”

“The Thain,” Thorin mused, “I am glad there is someone else to appeal to.”

“Yes. And the Tooks, they’re good hobbits. If anyone will understand going off for a bit on an adventure, it’s them. They should know that I ought not to have to lose my name and property for a bit of… going off.”

“Then I will put my faith in your Thain,” Thorin said slowly, “And pray that he will intercede on your behalf. Our behalf,” he corrected himself. He paused and asked, “Have you met him?”

“The Thain?” Bilbo asked absently, “yes, of course. He’s family.”

“Family?” Thorin paused, “then you’re hobbit royalty?”

“No,” Bilbo laughed, “the Thain isn’t royal. He’s a leader. And I’m not directly in line at all. They consider me very distant. Still,” Bilbo sighed, “I hope that I can expect a bit of help.”

⁂

“I’m sorry, what do you want?”

Bilbo stifled his urge to snap out something incredible petty. Instead he only glowered at old Thain Fortinbras, as they walked together through the Great Smials gardens.

“My rightful name,” Bilbo said.

“You’ve got that, haven’t you?”

“And the property that comes with it,” Bilbo added.

“Oh now, that’s a matter for the West Farthing court of Ordinary, right?” Fortinbras said.

“You know very well it will take them an age, and besides, they’re demanding proof of my identity!”

“So give them proof,” Fortinbras frowned.

“I have! But they refuse to accept my proof.”

“Hm. And you want me to vouch for you?” Fortinbras sighed.

“Yes.”

“But then, how do I know that you’re not an impostor?”

“You know very well it’s me.”

“No I don’t,” he said, “you could be… hm. Wizard figment.”

“What?”

“Your last known sighting was two years ago, two months. The same time that we had reports of a wizard about.”

“That was Gandalf. You know Gandalf. He didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve had all kinds of reports of wizard mischief. I’m thinking of cracking down on it.”

“You’re going to stop Gandalf from doing as he pleases?” Bilbo scoffed.

“It would be better all around if he stopped coming in here and causing mischief,” the Thain sniffed. “Anyway, are you saying that he didn’t change you?”

“Ah. _He_ didn’t. No,” Bilbo said.

“But you are changed.”

“I had some experiences. Of course I-”

“Can’t rule out changeling then.”

“Oh for heavensakes!” Bilbo growled.

“Get me some proof. That’s all I ask.”

“What proof? I can’t think what you might want.”

“Find someone who can vouch for you. That you really are you. Your husband doesn’t count.”

“Why not?” Bilbo asked sharply.

“Didn’t know him before all this, did you? Need someone who knew you before you left, who can ask something that only you would know.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said unhappily. Who could do that? He hadn’t been very close with anyone before he left. Not since his parents died. “... I’ve neighbors. My gardeners! Holman and his apprentice. They might-”

“They would know something about you that only you would know?”

“Hmm,” Bilbo frowned.

“Think about it. Let me know when you come up with something,” Fortinbras said. “In the meantime, you and your husband are welcome to stay here.”

“Well, I do thank you for that,” Bilbo said slowly, “But honestly, you’ve known me all my life. Can’t you see it’s me?”

“No,” Fortinbras said, “I’ve seen a bit of this world, and it’s taught me to be wary. People aren’t always what they appear to be. I’m very sorry, but I’m not staking my word on you. Not yet.”

Bilbo bowed his head.

“Very well.”

⁂

Bilbo stretched his legs out before him on the grass and sighed. He and Thorin were lounging on the grassy field near the east wing of the Great Smials. Children played nearby and someone had brought a keg of ale out, which drew a small crowd of Tooks on the field. Bilbo watched them, feeling vaguely tempted to go and get a mug, but he was feeling too lazy.

“The Thain refused you?” Thorin scowled. Bilbo blinked and drew himself back into the conversation.

“He didn’t refuse. He just asked me for proof. And unlike the Ordinary, I think he means it.”

“What proof does he want?” Thorin asked, still frowning. Bilbo sighed.

“He just wants-”

“Uncle!”

A young hobbit bounded across the green toward them. Bilbo frowned and sat up, letting out a startled cry as the hobbit boy showed no signs of slowing and plowed into him, throwing his arms around his chest.

“Frodo! Lad!” Bilbo coughed and patted his head. He expected the boy to sit up and launch into a stream of chatter, the way he had the last few times Bilbo had chanced to meet the boy at family gatherings, but the young hobbit remained quiet, only holding tight to him. Bilbo glanced over at Thorin, who was looking down at the boy with curiosity. Bilbo patted the boy’s head again, trying to dislodge him, but Frodo clung stubbornly. And he was crying.

“Hey! Young lad? What is it?” Bilbo asked, startled by the tears.

“They said you died,” Frodo said quietly.

Bilbo winced and moved his hand down to pat Frodo’s back.

“Well. I didn’t. Although, that would come as a surprise to certain bureaucratic court systems,” he paused. There was a better joke in there somewhere and though he was tempted to find it, Frodo’s distress was beginning to concern him. Had he really meant that much to the boy? He hadn’t thought so. Frodo was just another one of the little hobbits who had enjoyed the stories Bilbo told of his mother’s adventures.

“Bilbo Baggins has not died,” Thorin said, unexpectedly. Bilbo blinked and glanced at him. “He has returned, triumphant. From lands far, after accomplishing great deeds that are sung of in the Halls of my people.” Frodo’s fists unclenched and he lifted his head, blinking as he looked up at Thorin. Bilbo drew out a pocket handkerchief and wiped Frodo’s cheeks. He frowned again and glanced around the green. Drogo or Primula were usually not far behind Frodo. But neither seemed to be about.

“Is your name Frodo? Did I hear that correctly?” Thorin asked, his voice dropping down into a gentle tone. Frodo clung tight to Bilbo’s shoulder and gave his uncle a wide-eyed look.

“It’s alright lad,” Bilbo said, “this is your uncle Thorin.” Frodo eased, but still gave Thorin a bewildered look. Bilbo chuckled. “We were wed a few months ago.”

“You got married and I didn’t get to go?” Frodo sat back, huffing. Thorin chuckled and leaned into Bilbo’s shoulder.

“It wasn’t a local wedding,” Bilbo said.

“Where was it?” Frodo asked suspiciously.

“We were wed in the ancestral home of the Dwarves in the mountain of Erebor,” Bilbo said, tucking his handkerchief back into his pocket. Frodo looked impressed.

“Will you tell me about it?” he asked, “and all your adventures?”

“Yes certainly.”

“Now?”

“Er,” Bilbo frowned. He could hear some distant sound of a voice calling on the wind. He couldn’t quite make out the name being called, but it sounded like… Bilbo squinted down at his nephew. “Where are your-”

“Frodo!”

The voice was louder now and clear. Frodo went rigid and leapt up, ducking behind Thorin, sending Bilbo a look.

“Don’t tell her I was here!” he hissed.

“Er. Well. But-”

“Promise?” Frodo pleaded. Bilbo winced and glanced back toward the green.

“Now lad, I can’t-” Bilbo began but when he’d turned back, Frodo was gone. “Ah.” Bilbo blinked. Thorin was turned, looking toward a stand of trees, but Bilbo couldn’t see any sign of the boy. They traded looks.

“So. Now you’ve met Frodo Baggins,” Bilbo said.

“A Baggins!” Thorin smiled, “he’s adorable. And he’s my nephew!”

“Congratulations,” Bilbo smiled, at the unexpected happiness in Thorin’s eyes.

“How many nieces and nephews among hobbits do I have now?” Thorin asked excitedly.

“Oh lord. I. I would need to break out the book,” Bilbo said.

“Book?”

“Yes. We-”

“Bilbo!” Bilbo jumped in alarm and turned to see Esmeralda Brandybuck looking down at him.

“Ah! Esme. Hello,” Bilbo sat up straighter.

“Have you seen Frodo?” she asked.

“Hmm… Why?” Bilbo asked.

“He got away from me. And there’s so many Tooks and so much wildness, if I don’t find him now I won’t until someone hauls him out of their mushroom patch.”

“Mushroom patch,” Bilbo said slowly, “he’s taken up fungiculture?”

“No Bilbo,” Esme sighed, “He steals them.”

“He’s just like you!” Thorin cried out happily, taking Bilbo’s hand. Esmeralda and Bilbo both turned sharp looks on him, but Thorin remained unperturbed. Bilbo snorted, too enamored to be stern long and patted his husband’s hand.

“Yes, yes, darling.”

“Bilbo, you didn’t answer my question,” Esme broke in, “have you seen Frodo?”

“What do you want him for Esme?” Bilbo said petulantly as he gazed into Thorin’s eyes. “If Primula and Drogo aren’t concerned about him playing with his Took cousins, then let the boy be. He’s not going to get into too much trouble.” His statement was met with silence that he didn’t notice at once, still too taken up with the warmth in Thorin’s eyes. But when it had gone on long enough to break through he did turn and look up at her. Esme wasn’t looking at him though. She was looking at the grass and her mouth was drawn tight. Bilbo sat up.

“What?” he asked, crankily.

“I thought you had heard,” Esme said slowly.

“I have two years’ gossip to catch up on my dear,” Bilbo sighed, “there are a few things I have not heard. What is it?”

“Drogo and Primula died back in the summer.”

Bilbo froze, staring at the woman.

“Both of them?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Yes. There was an accident on the River. I’m sorry, Bilbo-dear. I really thought you had heard.”

Bilbo was quiet for a long moment. He hadn’t been close with either of the two, but they had been friendly and bright cheerful presences at parties. And so clearly adored their son. It had warmed Bilbo’s heart on the few occasions he’d taken note of it.

“And young Frodo? Who is looking after him now?” Bilbo asked.

“My husband and I,” Esmeralda said.

“Oh,” Bilbo murmured. He blinked and felt Thorin’s broad warm hand on his back. “Oh.”

“Very sorry you didn’t hear before now,” Esmeralda cleared her throat, “I had best get on. The way Frodo moves he could be in the next Farthing by nightfall.”

“Oh, yes. Of course,” Bilbo said, still troubled. “Good day.”

“Good day,” the woman said and took her leave. Thorin watched her go and then turned back to his husband.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Hm?”

“For your loss,” Thorin clarified.

“Oh,” Bilbo waved, “I- Well. These things happen. I suppose.” He fell silent. Thorin moved closer and slipped an arm around his back. Bilbo drew in a breath and leaned into the embrace. They stayed on the green until the light began to fade and most of the hobbits left, seeking a meal.

“Bilbo?”

Bilbo blinked and turned. Thorin was gazing at him, his large dark eyes worried.

“Er. Yes?”

“Are you alright?” Thorin asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” Bilbo said. Thorin looked lost and Bilbo leaned in, taking his hand. “I’m sorry. Have I been worrying you?”

“A bit. You seemed to be hiding how upset you are.”

“Oh,” Bilbo chuckled, “I thought I was being obnoxious about how upset I am. I’ve done little but complain since we got into the Shire.”

“What is it? Were you close to the couple who passed?”

“No, not really,” Bilbo said quietly. “Oh dear. You see, it’s just all of it. I come back and this isn’t the Shire I left behind. It wasn’t just me that changed in the interim.” Thorin hummed and rubbed his back. “Bag End has passed out of my hands, and the hobbits who I considered friends have decided that I am at best disgraced, and at worst some kind of impostor. And tragedy struck that sweet child.” He sighed. “But I can’t expect the world to hold still I suppose. And there is the small matter of all that I have gained.” He smiled up at Thorin. Thorin took his hand and reverently kissed it.

“We will find home again,” Thorin murmured. Bilbo touched his cheek and leaned up to kiss him.

“Yes we will.”


	2. Chapter 2

> _NEWS of SOCIETY_
> 
> _A merry birthday party was given Monday afternoon by the Master and Mistress of Buckland, for their ward Frodo Baggins, held while they visit with us here at the Great Smials. The occasion celebrated the seventh birthday of the little boy, and the affair was characterized by unusually pretty details of decoration. The children enjoyed games, and from a large barrel, covered with pink and white, they drew fascinating souvenirs._
> 
> _Refreshments were served under a large canopy in the garden, the guests being seated at a long table, surrounded by smaller tables. The birthday cake, bearing seven lighted tapers and beautifully embossed, was flanked by vases of pink and white sweetpeas, and pink and white spun candy balls._
> 
> _Master Frodo was very handsome in a suit of blue linen, with white collar and cuffs. Mrs. Esmeralda Brandybuck (nee Took) wore lavender linen, with collar and cuffs of lace._
> 
> **_⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯_ **
> 
> _Thain Fontinbras and Mrs. Diamond Took were hosts at a delightful lawn party Monday evening at Thain Hall. The occasion celebrated the birthday of Mr. B Baggins, who has just returned from his wedding journey. Music by the band was a bright feature, and there was dancing. Punch and beer were served during the evening, with a second supper at 10 o’clock._
> 
> _In honor of Mr. B. Baggins and his husband Mr. T. Oakenshield who are visiting from Hobbiton, there will be several informal affairs this week. Mrs. Esmeralda Brandybuck gave tea at the Driving Club Friday for Mr. Baggins and Mr. Oakenshield, and Mrs. Eglantine Took will entertain this week._
> 
> Tookland Daily Observer

“Is it always this busy when you visit your relatives?” Thorin asked as he and Bilbo walked hand in hand through the expansive gardens of the Great Smials.

“Heavens no,” Bilbo sighed, “I’m afraid turning up with a king on my arm has made a bit of a stir with them all. I’m sorry about that.”

“Not at all,” Thorin laughed, “And here I was concerned that life in the Shire might feel slow.”

“Hmm,” Bilbo sniffed, “I wouldn’t mind things slowing down. But we’ve a bit to do before that.” Thorin smiled down at him.

“I suppose so.”

Days passed as Bilbo and Thorin acquainted themselves with the Tooks. The family was very generous and friendly with them and Bilbo could tell that Thorin was enjoying himself. Bilbo would have enjoyed it all more if only his good cheer wasn’t overshadowed by the problem of proving himself to the Thain.

It should have been a simple matter. For most hobbits it would have been; all he needed was someone who could ask something that only he would know. But Bilbo had spent so many years keeping his own company. He’d withdrawn after his parents died. And while he hadn’t been a hermit exactly, he’d not allowed himself to grow close with anyone.

And even for those hobbits who he’d known as a boy- those who weren’t dead or living in Bree or the far reaches of the North Farthing- he couldn’t think of something that only he would know. It was a puzzle.

⁂

Bilbo was having an eventful afternoon. Thorin was meeting with the Thain and other hobbit dignitaries and though Bilbo had been invited, he’d found a way out of it. Talk like that wasn’t anything he was interested in.

Instead, he’d wandered the ground before joining a game of cards, only to watch one of his distant cousins swindle a game keeper out of two month’s salary in the first round. Bilbo had stood and walked around, reaching into Grindorol Bracegirdle's sleeve to draw out an ace. Grindorol might have quick enough hands to fool most hobbits, but not Bilbo.

The resulting chaos ended with Grindorol being banned from games of chance in Tookland. Grindorol had not been pleased about that and he’d given Bilbo an evil look.

Now Bilbo was back in the Hall, trying to make himself scarce. He wasn’t afraid, but he didn’t see any reason to give Grindorol an opportunity to assault him. His ploy hadn’t worked though. Bilbo straightened and coughed into his drink as he caught sight of Grindorol entering the Hall. Their eyes locked.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo murmured to himself as he watched the approaching Grindorol and made himself smile, even as he began to lightly panic.

“Bilbo Baggins,” the hobbit growled through his teeth.

“Oh hullo, Grin,” Bilbo said cheerily.

“Outside,” Grindorol snarled.

“O-outside? Pardon?”

“Outside you miserable little Baggins,” he spat, “I am going to settle you.” Bilbo winced and straightened.

“Fine,” he said.

A little hand reached up and clasped his. Bilbo blinked and looked down. Frodo Baggins looked up at him with wide shining eyes.

“Oh. Yes lad?”

“Uncle,” Frodo said, his voice pleading, “read to me?” He held up a book.

“Ah,” Bilbo blinked and reached down taking the book. He looked up at Grindorol . “I, ah, I promised the lad, you see.” Grindorol glanced down at Frodo. Frodo returned his gaze, his expression worried.

“Bilbo,” Grindorol growled. Bilbo turned back to Frodo.

“Go pick out a place by the fire. I’ll be right there my lad.” Frodo’s face brightened and he ran off, jumping up onto the sofa by the fire and crawling along the seat to find a blanket. Bilbo turned back to the steaming gentlehobbit. “I’m sorry Grindorol , but I must keep my promise to the lad.”

“I don’t see-"

“He’s an orphan,” Bilbo whispered, “very sad case.”

“Bilbo,” Grindorol snarled. Bilbo pointed back to Frodo.

“Look at him. Look at that precious babe. I am sorry but it’s a heartless hobbit that can say no to that face.”

Frodo peered over the couch, looking particularly forlorn with his large doleful eyes focused on them. Grindorol groaned.

“Someone else can read to the babe.”

“I want Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo demanded, poking his lip out.

“See here now Grindorol old chap, we can settle our differences later. I promise you! I will be here for the rest of the week at least. Plenty of time, eh? So you just go and have a good evening.”

Grindorol took a deep breath and turned on his heel, stalking off without another word. Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief and went over to Frodo, taking a seat beside him. Frodo’s woe had vanished, replaced by barely suppressed glee.

“Did I do good?” Frodo asked, giggling.

“You did wonderfully,” Bilbo chuckled, and ruffled his hair. “How in the Shire did you know I needed a rescue? Smart little thing!”

“I’m in trouble often enough to see the signs,” Frodo said brightly. Bilbo laughed.

“Trouble?” Bilbo blinked at him, “Oh dear. Well, my little co-conspirator, carry on like that and you’ll have an adventure.”

“Like you did?”

“Ha! Yes!” Bilbo sat back.

“You said you’d tell me of your adventures.”

“Oh! So I did,” Bilbo said, relishing the role of storyteller. Frodo peered up, happy.

“There you are!” the young woman said, rounding the corner. Frodo shrank into Bilbo’s side, timid suddenly. “Come! It’s time for dinner.”

“Yes, nanny,” Frodo murmured, slipping down from the sofa. Bilbo watched, bewildered. All of Frodo’s brightness was suddenly snuffed out.

“Pardon,” Bilbo said gently to the young woman. “I invited my nephew to have dinner with me and my husband.”

“Oh,” she said dithering a moment, before turning back to Frodo, “well young master, please behave yourself, and you know Aunty’s rule about being in bed by nine, don’t you?”

“Yes Miss,” Frodo said. She nodded and went on her way. Frodo breathed out a sigh of relief and turned back to Bilbo.

“I suppose it’s my turn to thank you for the rescue.”

“No need for thanks, lad,” Bilbo said and stood, “come on.” He held out his hand and Frodo took it. Together they walked down the Hall and toward the guest quarters.

⁂

On the rare occasions that Bilbo had visited his mother’s family in the past, he’d been given a small room on the guest wing, suitable to single gentlehobbits. Now that he was married, and married to a king no less, he and Thorin had been given use of a small cottage located in a quiet place behind the guest wing. There were woods nearby and a creek, giving the cottage a homey cozy feeling.

Bilbo led Frodo through the courtyards and past the guest wing to the path leading to their cottage. The little boy had eased once more and was happily telling Bilbo about escaping his own birthday party to go play down at the creek with his Took cousins.

“Hello!” Bilbo called as they entered the cottage, “I’ve brought a guest!”

Thorin peered over the back of his chair, where he’d been reading, and smiled.

“Frodo Baggins,” he greeted.

“Hello Uncle Thorin,” Frodo said. Thorin rose, going to Bilbo to clasp his shoulder and greeted him with a kiss before looking down at Frodo.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Frodo glanced at Bilbo, staying silent. Bilbo patted his shoulder, encouragingly.

“Frodo rescued me from a vastly unpleasant relation of mine while we were at the Hall. And I asked him to have dinner with us.”

“Uncle Bilbo almost got his ears boxed,” Frodo said, smiling. Thorin glanced at him.

“Did he deserve it?”

Frodo giggled as Bilbo sputtered in indignation. Thorin barked out a laugh.

“Ah! Betrayed by my own kin!” Bilbo complained, taking a seat beside his husband. Thorin put an arm around his shoulders and kissed his cheek.

“Who dares to harm my burglar?” he asked, as Frodo climbed up onto the couch beside them.

“Grindorol Bracegirdle,” Bilbo waved, “He’s a nuisance.”

“Ah? Really?”

“He was cheating at cards. Ordinarily none of my business,” Bilbo murmured, “And I wouldn’t have intervened- professional courtesy- but he wasn’t playing with only puffed up Tooks. He cheated a gamekeeper out of real money. So, I exposed him. Adalgrim Took was there and took the fellow to task. He’s been banned from games of chance, and he was not best pleased with me.”

“I see. So he challenged you?”

“Yes. Frodo intervened though. Bought me some time.” Thorin turned to regard Frodo.

“You have done a great service to our household.”

“Uncle Bilbo says we’re co-conspirators,” Frodo said shyly. Thorin winced and turned back to his husband.

“We are,” Bilbo laughed.

“Uncle Bilbo, are you really a burglar?” Frodo asked. Bilbo perked up.

“That’s right! I haven’t told you our adventure yet.”

“Well then,” Thorin said, “I’ll start dinner, you tell the tale.”

Bilbo sat in the arm chair beside the fire, sipping tea as he told of his adventures with the Dwarves and with Gandalf. Frodo lay on the floor in front of the hearth, seated on a pile of blankets and pillows, spellbound as he listened.

Thorin joined them after a time and took a seat on the couch, listening as Bilbo spun the tale of the three trolls.

“Is the food ready?” Bilbo asked, breaking off. Thorin smiled at him.

“Get us to Rivendell and then we can eat. The food is warming in the oven.”

Bilbo settled in once more and sank back into his storytelling voice.

⁂

Bilbo was pleased to see that Frodo took to Dwarf fare without a word of complaint. But then, Thorin was an excellent cook, and it didn’t hurt that the traditional mushroom portion of the meal had been doubled at least. There was lamb stew- tender meat swimming in a creamy spicy sauce that most hobbits would have thought too spicy, but Bilbo had begun to crave, mushrooms stuffed with cheese and breadcrumbs, green beans baked in lemon juice and garlic, and a spicy pickled cabbage dish that Bilbo fully expected the child to refuse. Frodo though, took a small portion and munched on it, his expression thoughtful.

“How do you like it in Tookland? It must be very different from Brandy Hall,” Bilbo asked the boy gently as they finished dinner.

“I like it as much as I like Brandy Hall,” Frodo said quietly. Bilbo wasn't sure what to make of that.

“You aren’t unhappy are you?” he asked. Frodo blinked.

“I’m alright, uncle.”

Bilbo sipped his dry cider and frowned.

“If ever there is anything that we may do for you, then you’ve only to say,” Thorin said.

“Oh yes,” Bilbo brightened, “you saved me from a very unpleasant fate tonight. We are deeply in your debt.” Frodo laughed a little, but his eyes stayed thoughtful.

“I was very glad to do it,” he said, “You’ve always been nice to me. And mama liked your stories. She’d tell them to me, all about Belladonna Took and the things she did and the places she saw. I love those stories. I tell them to my baby cousin Merry, every night. Those stories made me realize that I want to be like her. I want to go out there too someday.” Bilbo blinked, caught off guard.

“The world out there can be very hard,” Thorin said slowly, then turned to Bilbo, “but then again, you mustn’t make the mistake I did and underestimate a Baggins.” He reached over and stroked Bilbo's hair. Bilbo eased before turning back to Frodo.

“I’ve no doubt you can do whatever you set your heart on,” Bilbo said, “Just wait until you’re ready. And tell someone before you go.” He paused, adding, “In fact, tell me. There’s arrangements that can be made. Aren’t there, darling?” Bilbo asked as he reached over, stroking the back of Thorin’s hand, and sending him a flirtatious look. Thorin chuckled and pinched him playfully.

“Certainly!” Thorin said, “So do tell us whenever you want to take off into the Blue, young Frodo.”

Frodo smiled, clearly delighted.

⁂

After dinner, Thorin brought out his lyre and played for them in the parlor. Frodo listened, but gradually he curled against the sofa’s armrest and dozed off. Thorin reached the end of his song and set the lyre aside. Bilbo rose and went to sit beside him, leaning into his arms. They didn’t speak, only watched the fire, not wanting to disturb Frodo. They sat like that for a long while.

“We should get him back to the Smials,” Bilbo said at last, glancing at the clock, “He’s supposed to be in bed by nine.” Thorin stood and went to Frodo, gently shaking his shoulder.

“Come, wake up, please,” he said. Frodo sat up, blinking and frowning.

“Come lad,” Bilbo said, “We must get you back.”

“I want to stay,” Frodo sniffed, “can I?”

“We’ve no place for you to sleep,” Bilbo said gently, “and Esme and Sara will be missing you.”

“I can sleep here,” Frodo said, patting the couch. Bilbo sighed.

“What about little Merry?” he asked, “He’ll miss you.”

Frodo fell silent, then slipped down off the couch.

“I forgot about Merry,” he said softly. “I still wish I could stay.”

“I’ll talk to Sara and Esme about it. Maybe we can arrange something later on,” Bilbo said gently. “But tonight I think you need to get back.”

Frodo nodded and let them bundle him up in one of Bilbo’s coats for the walk back. Bilbo and Thorin accompanied him back to the Smials, and took him to the Brandybuck’s quarters. Saradoc answered their knock and took Frodo by the hand.

“Hello little lad, did you have a nice dinner with Uncle Bilbo and Uncle Thorin?”

“I did,” Frodo answered.

“Very good,” Saradoc patted his head and sent Frodo inside. “Did he behave himself?” Saradoc asked in an undertone that sounded as if he dreaded the answer.

“Yes he did,” Bilbo said. Sara blinked.

“You don’t have to be polite, Bilbo.”

“He was perfectly well mannered,” Thorin said.

“Hm. That’s a first,” Saradoc muttered. “Well, thank you both for walking him back. Good night.”

“Good night,” Bilbo said as the door closed.

⁂

“Why did you ask Frodo if he is happy?” Thorin murmured as they walked back. Bilbo sighed and put his hand in Thorin’s.

“Because he doesn’t seem to be,” he said quietly.

“How so?”

“He takes every opportunity to escape his nanny and tutors and aunt and uncle. And he seems to get into an awful lot of trouble.”

“I did the same when I was his age,” Thorin said with a smile.

“But this seems different,” Bilbo said stubbornly, “you didn’t see him when his nanny came for him this afternoon. The boy lost his spark.”

“Hm,” Thorin frowned. They were silent for a long moment. “Perhaps,” Thorin said, “ perhaps being around you - a beloved uncle who tells stories of adventure - helps him forget all the sadness. Maybe when he has to go back to his regular life with his aunt and uncle, it’s a return to all of that.”

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That and you listen to him. Treat him as a - what is it? Co-conspirator. I doubt anyone else does that,” Thorin said. Bilbo smiled.

“You’ll listen to him too.”

“Of course.”

Bilbo put his arm around Thorin’s chest and embraced him.

“In any case,” Bilbo said into the cool night air, “I think we ought to try and keep an eye on him. Make sure he’s happy.”

“Yes,” Thorin agreed, “I think that is for the best.”

⁂

Bilbo gasped and pressed into Thorin’s warmth, his breath hitching as he thrust. Thorin murmured soft words in his ear, secret Khuzdul words of love. They were seated together, Thorin with his back to the headboard, and Bilbo in his lap. They clung tight against one another in the bed, the faint light from a single candle scattering across the twisted sheets around them, illuminating their heated skin with a warm glow.

Thorin growled and his arms tightened around Bilbo as he found his peak. Bilbo nipped his shoulder and let out a soft cry as he gazed down. He felt the warmth of Thorin’s head resting now on his shoulder, as the sturdy dwarf shuddered with pleasure against him. Bilbo hummed, ridiculously pleased. He breathed into Thorin’s ear, and then kissed it.

“I think you like a fine hobbit squirming in your lap,” he teased and rocked against him. Thorin’s large warm hand went down between them and Bilbo gasped. He panted and thrust as Thorin’s hand worked him to his finish.

They held together for long moments, murmuring endearments to one another as they cleaned themselves. Then, Bilbo slid down into the bedding and pulled it up around them. He felt drowsy now and very content.

“I look forward to the day that we can do that in our own home,” Thorin murmured into the still air. Bilbo blinked coming a little more awake. He cuddled close to Thorin, peering into his face.

“I’m sorry I haven’t made more progress on that front,” Bilbo said quietly. Thorin drew a breath.

“Oh! I wasn’t complaining,” he assured, stroking Bilbo’s curls, “I value you above all things.”

“Yes?” Bilbo murmured encouragingly.

“Yes. You showed me there is better treasure to be gained than cold gems,” Thorin said, kissing his ears. Bilbo’s eyes fell shut. “Good food, the companionship of friends. The love of a hobbit.” Bilbo turned and kissed his neck. “Even the best house is nothing to that love.”

“You are my home, too. Not Bag End,” Bilbo said quietly, “we could go anywhere. We could go back to the Mountain. Perhaps we should.”

Thorin’s large warm hand settled at his back, rubbing.

“There is love for the Shire in your heart,” he said quietly.

“It’s nothing compared to the love for you in my heart,” Bilbo said, glancing down as he felt himself flush.

“Ah. But I want your heart to be full. Full and overflowing. And that can only happen here, can’t it?” Thorin asked softly, “Here, where we are surrounded by the hills and gentle land. Here, where your family lives.”

“Oh. Well,” Bilbo murmured, “but really. That’s selfish of me to want all of that. You have family and a Hall. People who love you there.”

“My family will visit and I will visit them,” he nuzzled into Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Ah well. I suppose that just means we’re stuck.”

“Stuck?” Thorin asked. Bilbo laughed softly.

“We’ve finally got a home, but no house!” he snorted.

“I thought hobbits lived in holes,” Thorin murmured sleepily.

“The rich ones and the poor ones do,” Bilbo said, cuddling closer.

“That makes no sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. Don’t be silly.”

Thorin pondered this.

“And you’re certain hobbit holes don’t all link up underground?”

“I am very certain,” Bilbo sighed, closing his eyes. His belly was full of good food and Thorin was stroking his hair. He smiled.

“Do you think there might be a market for it?”

“No.”

“Hm.”

“Thorin.”

“When we retake Bag End… could do a sort of trial? Link up your cellar with the neighbor's holes?”

“The neighbors live at the bottom of the hill.”

“Still possible.”

“I’ll let you propose that to the Row hobbits. See how they react.”

“It’s very cozy.”

“Not to a hobbit.”

“Hm.” He could hear the frown in Thorin voice. He curled in his arms and hugged him.

“I tell you what. If ever we have family come to live with us, we could delve into the Hill and make new holes and connect Bag End up with them. We’ll have an absolute warren of tunnels.” Thorin chuckled softly.

“Well that settles it. We absolutely must retake Bag End now.”

“We will darling,” Bilbo sighed and pressed his cheek to Thorin’s chest. “We will.”


	3. Chapter 3

> _**Notice** \- Notice is given that Grindorol Braceguirde has been found to be a cheat and a scoundrel and he is heretofore banned from games of chance and skill at the Great Smials, in which specie is exchanged as prize. Have nothing to do with this character! _
> 
> _-Adalgrim Took. September 30, 1343._
> 
> _**Notice** \- As to the advertisement posted up last week at the Thainery it is not worth notice; and I am sorry that Adalgrim Took and Bilbo Baggins have not some better pretensions than that insolent advertisement. My name is not deserving of such usage from Mr. Took nor from Mr. Baggins, after the civilities I have shewn both, as my name is Grindorol Braceguirdle. October 3, 1343. _
> 
> _-Tookland Weekly Observer_  
>    
> 

* * *

  
  
“I’m sure there’s something else we can think of,” Eglantine Took said as she walked with Bilbo, the pair of them leaving the Thain’s office.

“He’s being unreasonable,” Bilbo growled, “it was a perfectly good description of the dinner and ball. I had to have been there to know those details! And you were able to confirm each one!”

“It was twenty years ago,” Eglantine sighed.

“It was our first season party as adults. I remember each course as well as the flowers used in the arrangements, and so do you.”

“Not the flowers. That’s really more your area of expertise.”

“There were plenty of details, never mind the flowers.”

“Yes darling, but those details could have been observed by any number of people. It’s not information that only Bilbo Baggins knows.”

“Don’t you start,” Bilbo growled. “Honestly! Does Frontinbras think that I have spies who can peer back through time?”

“Wizard friend.”

“Wizard friend who’s grand total of powers seems to be defacing property and bothering everyone,” Bilbo muttered.

“We’ll think of something,” Eglantine said gently. “Why, my Paladin will be here at week’s end. He’s known you for as long as I have. He’ll think of something.”

“Thank you, Eg,” Bilbo sighed, turning to clasp her hand, “it was good of you to make this try with me.”

“Of course, dear. I’m extremely fond of you, and even if I weren’t, I can’t stand Lobelia and Otho.”

“Ah! I have both love and spite on my side!” Bilbo laughed.

“Always, cousin,” Eglantine said and kissed his cheek.

⁂

Bilbo strolled along the orchard path, taking a little used back road out to the creek. He wanted to clear his head and a walk without interruptions seemed just the thing. But it wasn’t what he got.

“Uncle!”

Bilbo turned around to see Frodo bolting down the path, clutching his shirtails, mushrooms spilling out behind him.

“Frodo, for shame! Don’t spill-” Bilbo began but drew in a breath as he spotted three dogs behind the boy, racing after him, and catching up. Bilbo rushed forward to meet him. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, except he wanted to get Frodo out of reach of the dogs. Frodo leapt up into the air and Bilbo caught him. He turned and spotted a tree with low branches. He hurried to it and lifted Frodo up. Frodo tried to pull himself up, but sank back into Bilbo’s arms, having difficulty since he was still clutching the bundle of mushrooms in his shirt tails.

“Leave those! Let them fall,” Bilbo told him sternly. Frodo did as he was told and scrambled up into the branches. Bilbo considered climbing up himself but he was suddenly taken with hobbity wrath. Those dogs could have hurt his nephew. He turned, and stepped toward the dogs who surrounded him, snarling. Bilbo felt the same fury he’d felt when he’d confronted the spiders, when they’d taken the dwarves.

“Go!” he told them and stepped forward, radiating power. The dog’s snarls dropped away and they stared at him, their hair standing up. “Go home,” Bilbo told them. The dog paused only a moment more, then turned and fled.

Bilbo stared after them, a little surprised with himself. He heard Frodo climb down and land in the brush behind him.

“Uncle Bilbo, that was amazing,” he said. Bilbo turned and smiled at him. “How did you do it?”

“Oh, only acted sure of myself, I suppose,” he said. “But don’t you try that. I took a chance doing such. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, go on, get your mushrooms,” Bilbo said. Frodo grinned and turned back to the base of the tree and began collecting the mushrooms. Bilbo watched, casting his eyes on the brown caps scatted on the forest floor.

“I don’t suppose those are the prize porcini, grown by Farmer Harfoot?”

Frodo went still and then turned, wide-eyed.

“Oh dear. I’m right,” Bilbo chuckled.

“Are you going to tell?” Frodo asked, his shoulders drooping.

“No,” Bilbo said quietly. He went over and took a seat beside Frodo. “But, do you know what you did wrong?” he asked. Frodo nodded wearily.

“I shouldn’t steal,” he said very quietly.

“No dear lad, you must observe your surroundings before you act.”

“Ha?” Frodo frowned up at him.

“That’s where you went wrong. Next time see you can shut the dogs up in a pen. Or distract them. Or watch the place for a bit and see if they are taken away for a time each day.”

“But, Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo winced, “isn’t stealing the wrong bit?”

“I mean. Yes,” Bilbo sniffed, “but sometimes… sometimes a hobbit becomes a burglar, whether he likes it or not. And then, well. No choice but to steal, eh? Anyway. It _might_ be for a good cause.”

“I’m just greedy,” Frodo said, blinking up at him.

“Hm. Well,” Bilbo pondered this, “you’re a growing boy.”

“No one ever made me a burglar,” Frodo said quietly, “I think I’m just bad.”

“Absolute rubbish,” Bilbo snapped. Frodo was quiet. “You know what?” Bilbo said slowly, “I say you are a burglar.”

“Can you do that?”

“I should think so. I was made king’s burglar. That gives me authority.”

“Oh,” Frodo said, impressed, “who’s the king?”

“My husband.”

“Oh,” Frodo said, less impressed, “nepotism.”

“I beg your pardon! That was before I married him!” Bilbo sputtered. “How in blazes do you know about nepotism anyway, scamp?”

“I live with the Brandybucks.”

“Ah,” Bilbo pursed his lips, then chuckled, and doubled over, laughing. Frodo brightened. Bilbo sat up again, wiping tears from his eyes. “Dear lad! Here,” he drew out a large handkerchief and handed it to Frodo. “Wrap those up and come with me. Let me show you just how much of a burglar you are!” They rose together, and though Frodo looked puzzled, he followed along.

They walked back toward the Smials, and up the green. Bilbo spotted Thorin reading under the shade of an oak tree. He smiled and glanced back at Frodo.

“He’ll do!” Bilbo declared and quickened his pace. They came upon Thorin, who was seated on a low stone wall. He looked up from his book and smiled at them.

“Hello, dear,” Bilbo called, then turning to Frodo he said, “now, here is an unsuspecting target for you to try out your skills on.”

“What’s this?” Thorin asked.

“You’re going to be burglarized,” Bilbo told him.

“Is that all?”

“Like the trolls were?” Frodo piped up looking to Bilbo.

“Yes, but don’t get caught like I did.”

Thorin blinked and grinned. He turned his back.

“If I catch any burahobbits sneaking at my pockets,” he bellowed out loudly, “then it’s into a pie with them!” Several hobbits looked up from across the green but Thorin paid them no mind. Bilbo nearly melted.

 _Here he is,_ he thought, _every inch the stern proud king of his people, and yet playing troll for our nephew without a care that anyone might think it undignified._

“Don’t listen to all that. Go for his jacket pocket and keep your eye on the matter before you!” Bilbo whispered to Frodo. “Use a light hand, don’t make a sound, and wait until the moment is right.”

“Yes, sir,” Frodo breathed, and passed the bundle of mushrooms to Bilbo. He crouched, tense padding on noiseless hobbit feet through the grass until he drew up behind Thorin. He waited, then darted forward suddenly, slipping his hand into Thorin’s jacket pocket and plucked his coin purse out. He retreated silently, and hid behind Bilbo. Thorin sat waiting, humming.

“I really do mean it!” he called, “I’m getting hungry! I might not even wait to make a pie!”

“Check your pockets, mighty troll,” Bilbo called. Thorin growled and put his hand in his pocket. His eyes widened in genuine shock. Frodo grinned and held up his purse.

“I didn’t feel that at all!” Thorin cried, turning, “that was very well done!”

“Thank you,” Frodo said and handed it back.

“But now I must have my revenge on you, little burahobbit!” Thorin cried and caught him as Frodo squealed in delight. “Oh this won’t do!” he said, hefting Frodo up to scowl at him, “you won’t even make half a pie! What am I do to with you?”

“Don’t eat me! Don’t eat me!” Frodo cried.

“How’s your cooking Frodo? Trolls like a good home cooked meal,” Bilbo called out advice.

“I can’t cook!”

“Oh dear! Well, I can,” Bilbo said and tugged at Thorin’s coat, “Mr. Troll, sir, if I cook you a fine lunch will you let this little burahobbit go?”

“It must be a very good lunch,” Thorin laughed and bent, scooping Bilbo up in his free arm. Bilbo cried out in surprise and clung to him.

“Thorin!” he gasped. Thorin only laughed again and bolted off, both of them still in his arms. He carried them back to the cottage.

⁂

They had a fine little lunch at their cottage. Bilbo gathered the ingredients for stew, showing Frodo how each vegetable should be cleaned and chopped. Frodo contributed his ill-gotten mushrooms.

“Thank you, lad,” Bilbo had said, “And good thinking. Destroy the evidence of your crimes quickly!” Frodo laughed and went back to watching Bilbo chop. Thorin was seated nearby, at the kitchen table and soon he and Bilbo fell into talk about Bilbo’s visit that morning to the Thain.

“The meeting didn’t go over well,” Bilbo sighed as he stirred the stew. Thorin turned to him. “He didn’t accept our proof- mine and Eglantine’s. She’s promised to bring her husband Paladin into this once he gets back from Michel Delving. He’s an old friend too. And cunning. He might think of something.”

“I’m sorry this is so difficult,” Thorin sighed, “perhaps I should speak with your Thain. I didn’t want to push in but I can swear first hand that you are the hobbit who we met at Bag End. That really should be proof enough.”

“You are welcome to try, but Fontinbras is extremely stubborn. He’s set me a task- and I grant you it is a fair task- and I have not met it.”

“There’s really no one?” Thorin asked. “No one who shared in something that only you and they would know?”

“Before you all came,” Bilbo murmured, “I hadn’t had much in the way of friends for a long time. I never saw it back then, how closed off I was. I never let anyone close. I kept my socializing to pleasantries, and telling stories. I had enough money that I could keep to myself if I wanted. And I did. And I did it for years and years.” As he spoke he let his eyes drift down to Frodo who was playing on the floor nearby. He was gingerly poking at Thorin’s shoe, studying it with wide eyed fascination.

“You were a good friend to us, even though we didn’t understand you,” Thorin said gently.

“But first I had to be forced out of my home,” Bilbo snorted.

“No one forced you. I seem to remember you running after us.”

“Hm. Yes. Rather I should say, I needed waking up,” Bilbo said quietly. “And you all and Gandalf certainly did that.”

“I suppose we did.”

⁂

After lunch, Bilbo walked Frodo back to the Smials. He was supposed to have lessons that afternoon, and even Frodo wasn’t cheeky enough to shirk both morning and afternoon lessons in the same day. Once more, Bilbo observed Frodo’s joy fade away. He really did need to talk with Saradoc and Esmeralda.

With a somewhat heavy heart, Bilbo left Frodo and began his walk back to the cottage. He was lost deep in thoughts of what he should say or ask the Brandybucks, when he became aware of a shadow falling across his path from a hobbit behind him. Too close behind him. He turned, only to see Grindorol rear back to strike him. Bilbo squeaked and ducked

“Stay still you little worm!”

“Worm!” Bilbo protested and ducked another blow, springing back. He turned and ran, Grindorol hot on his heels and grabbing for Bilbo’s coat.

 _I’ve outrun worse things than you, Grindorol Bracegirdle!_ Bilbo thought spitfully and put on a burst of speed, making for a large oak.

“I’ll climb up after you,” Grindorol shouted, “Don’t think I won’t!” Bilbo darted behind the tree and put his hand in his pocket.

Grindorol followed a moment later, swinging around the tree, ready to spring onto Bilbo, but instead he stopped short, astounded. Bilbo had vanished.

“Bilbo!” Grindorol shouted in fury. “Whatever trick you are playing I will find you! You’re not going to wrong me, you filthy lying con-hobbit! I’ll have your hide or my name isn’t Grindorol Bracegirdle!”

Bilbo was in the meantime retreating, the ring firmly on his finger. He looked back over his shoulder, livid at the insults, but limited his retort.

“Well really,” he muttered very quietly and slipped off.

⁂

Bilbo had no more trouble from Grindorol that week, though they had spotted one another a few times. Bilbo’s vanishing trick seemed to have put some fear in the hobbit, or at least some uncertainty. Bilbo approved of either.

On Friday morning, Bilbo was out in the garden, having tea and reading. He looked up from his book to see Frodo walking out from the Smial entrance, holding a baby in his arms. The baby squirmed and burbled as they traveled down the garden path.

“Good morning, Uncle,” Frodo called.

“Good morning. Is this cousin Merry?”

“It is.”

Frodo sat on the ground nearby, legs crossed, propping Merry up in his lap. He brought out a bottle and tested the temperature by letting a bit drip onto the back of his hand. He hummed and then turned it over, presenting the nub end to Merry who grabbed at the bottle latched on. The baby sucked hungrily as he looked up at Frodo. Bilbo watched in mild interest, impressed that Frodo knew how to feed and hold a baby.

“Why are you feeding him outside?” Bilbo asked. Frodo huffed.

“He likes to eat outside,” he declared.

“Oh. I see.”

Bilbo went back to his book but his attention was snapped back to the present by a wordless cry from down that garden path. Bilbo sat up, alarmed to see Saradoc racing down the path, Esmeralda a step behind him.

“There he is!” Saradoc cried.

“Hey now!” Bilbo said, rising, “what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“You wicked hobbit!” Esme scolded, glaring at Bilbo, “you had us so worried! What were you thinking?”

“Worried about what?” Bilbo blinked.

“I took Merry!” Frodo cried, standing in front of Bilbo protectively.

“You _took_ him?” Bilbo gasped.

“Frodo Baggins!” Saradoc growled and reached down to take Merry from him. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

“I’m sorry,” Frodo sniffed, tears falling down his cheeks. “I just thought it would be nice for him to take his bottle outside.”

Saradoc huffed and turned away without another word, stalking back inside, clutching Merry to his chest. The baby had watched all of this with wide gray eyes, but had not cried.

“Darling, you can’t just take Merry without telling someone,” Esme said, leaning down to pat Frodo’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Frodo said again and wiped his cheeks on his sleeve. Esme clicked her tongue.

“Don’t wipe on your sleeve. It’s nasty.”

“Sorry.”

“Bilbo?’ Esmeralda said, “have you a handkerchief?” Bilbo drew one out of his pocket and handed it to her. She gave it to Frodo, then stood, looking as if she were going to speak further. Frodo looked up at her. She gazed at him in silence, then reached down and patted his shoulder, before turning away, and following after her husband. Frodo stayed in the garden, sniffing and using the handkerchief to wipe his tears.

“Ah,” Bilbo frowned, uncomfortable, but wanting to comfort Frodo all the same, “sorry, my lad. In all the burglary lessons, I should have made it plain that you really should never burgle people’s children,” he said and felt an ache in his heart unexpectedly. Frodo gazed up at him. Bilbo pressed on, trying to ignore it. “They make a fuss, see. It’s cursed inconvenient. In all sorts of ways,” he trailed off, the ache becoming too much.

“Have you ever done it? Stole a child?” Frodo asked. The ache sharped.

“No,” Bilbo said very quietly.

“Would you ever do it?” Frodo asked in a low voice. Bilbo put his hand on Frodo’s head. Silence stretched between them.

“Are you hungry, lad?” Bilbo asked at last.

“I am.”

“Then I’ll cook something for you. Anything. What do you want?”

“Mushrooms.”

“Anything else?”

“Sweet bread,” Frodo murmured, “Cheese polenta. Egg custard. Sausage. Hot cakes and jam. Tomatoes. Apple tart. Hot chocolate.”

“Alright,” Bilbo said quickly. He’d forgotten how ravenous small hobbits were.

⁂

He brought Frodo into the warm sunlit kitchen of his and Thorin’s cottage and went about making a second breakfast for the boy. Thorin was out taking a walk, so Bilbo felt free to be as loud as he liked. He soon had Frodo laughing, telling stories of his exploits as a boy.

After second breakfast, Bilbo took Frodo into the garden and offered to tell him all about flowers. Frodo nodded, willing it seemed to listen.

“The gardeners here work very hard to make these beautiful gardens, so I think it’s important to enjoy them,” Bilbo said, “it’s a tough job, gardening.”

“Because of all the dirt and digging?” Frodo asked, peering at a dazzling blossom with spiked filaments.

“Well, that’s part of it, but there’s much more to it than that. Gardeners have to know all about each type of plant- what they need and when they need it and how to give them that care. It can be very complicated.”

“I thought they just needed sun and water,” Frodo blinked, moving closer to sniff at the bloom.

“Well, most do well with those things, but some flowers need a lot of sun, some very little. And if you give them too much water or not enough then there’s problems…” Bilbo trailed off, realizing that while he knew abstractly that gardening was a complicated business, he’d never gotten deep into the particulars, as he had always kept a gardener employed at Bag End to handle such matters. Still, he could appreciate it, and felt it was his duty to pass that appreciation on the Frodo.

“For instance- these are blue crown passion flowers,” Bilbo continued, “it’s a vine and it loves sun. And while you could plant it anywhere, it’s not going to do well unless you give it a fence or a trellis to support it. It needs to climb up and spread its leaves, not wander aimlessly along the ground like a creeper vine.”

“Oh.”

“Some plants need supports like that. Some plants do better when they are planted with companions- tomatoes do wonderfully when you plant marigolds around them.”

“Why’s that?”

“The marigolds protect the tomatoes from pests and they both like the same conditions so they work beautifully together." Frodo took this in, a thoughtful look on his face. They spent the morning wandering the gardens, finding varieties to show one another.

⁂

That evening Bilbo sat with Thorin in the parlor, the pair of them cuddling together under a blanket by the fire. Bilbo had related the day’s events to Thorin, and now he was morose, staring into the fire.

“I want to help him,” Bilbo murmured.

“It sounds as if you did,” Thorin said, brushing his hand through Bilbo’s curls.

“Really help him. I’ve been thinking I need to speak with Saradoc and Esmeralda. Watching them scold him this morning broke my heart.”

“He did steal their child.”

“But not really!” Bilbo sniffed. “No, I understand. They were frightened. I still feel that I must say something though. The boy is not happy.”

“He’s their ward,” Thorin said, “they’re not going to respond well if you go in there and lecture them.”

“But Frodo told me he hardly sees them. From what I’ve seen they only have time to scold him! He gets shuffled off to tutors and he slips off and gets into trouble-”

“Which you’ve encouraged on several occasions.”

“What? That- that has nothing to do with what we are discussing.”

“My apologies.”

“He slips off and gets into trouble and Sara and Esme just seem resigned to it- just assuming that he’s a bad child. He even told me that _he_ thinks he’s bad! I don’t like it.”

“What do you want to do about it?” Thorin asked, frowning.

“I’m going to give Saradoc and Esme a piece of my mind.”

“Do you want help?” Thorin asked, pressing his nose into soft hobbit curls.

“Yes, but,” Bilbo pondered this a moment, “perhaps this first time speaking with them, it might be better if it’s just me. They don’t know you as well. If I’m bringing up sensitive subjects then...”

“Ah. I understand.”

“If I don’t piss them off too badly then perhaps we can all get together. Have dinner or something. Help them get to know you.”

“I would like that,” Thorin said. Bilbo brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles. Thorin dropped his other arm over Bilbo’s chest and embraced him. “I would like them to know that we care about Frodo. And that if they need our help, then they’ve only to ask.”

“Hm!” Bilbo hummed, impressed at Thorin’s diplomatic approach, “That’s good. That’s very good.”

“It has the advantage of being true as well.”

Bilbo turned in Thorin’s arms and kissed his cheek.

“Good heavens, I adore you,” he murmured. Thorin chuckled and pulled Bilbo closer to kiss him.

“Shall we go to bed?”

Bilbo stretched, looking into those dark loving eyes, his heart full.

“Yes, my dear.”


	4. Chapter 4

> Son of Tookland to Return
> 
> _Paladin Took is said to be making his homeward return, back from Sarn Ford, where he has been stationed these past six months. His companions say he dined everyday on some South Farthing dish that is beneath naming in this paper. We know that Mr. Took used to eat proper Tookish fare and we all hope that these corrupting notions are either temporary or false rumor. There is to be a ball on Thursday upon his return and we will see if our small Tookish efforts at victuals are enough to drive off the madness of South Farthing “fare” for good._
> 
> _Smials Sentinel_

* * *

  
Bilbo followed Saradoc through the Brandybuck chambers, until they reached his office. Esmeralda was there, seated by the window, sipping tea. She stood and greeted him, before taking her seat once more.

“I suppose this is about Frodo,” Saradoc said, sitting on the sofa across from Bilbo. Esmeralda passed Bilbo a cup of tea and Saradoc began pouring his own.

“Yes,” Bilbo said, “Thorin and I have grown very fond of him these past weeks, you see. And we have begun to worry for him a bit.”

“We are worried too,” Esmeralda said quietly.

“Oh?”

“What is it exactly that’s worrying you, cousin Bilbo?” Saradoc asked. Bilbo felt uncomfortable. He didn’t really like pushing in like this.

“He seems a very bright happy child, or at least as bright and happy as he can be, circumstances being what they are. But I’ve noticed when I bring him to his tutors or to his nanny, he grows very quiet and there is such an air of gloom on him.” Bilbo sipped his tea. “Thorin supposed that it’s because he’s returning to his everyday life, and that life has certain hard truths to it, that perhaps he doesn’t dwell on when he’s out with us.”

“But you don’t think that’s it, do you?” Saradoc asked.

“Not entirely.”

“There is more than sadness,” Esmeralda said. “We’ve seen it too, of course.”

“He isn’t happy,” Bilbo said quietly.

“No, he’s not,” Saradoc said, and was silent for a long moment. “The truth is he’s a bit much for us. We are only just learning to be parents.”

“We came to the Tooks for advice,” Esmeralda said, “we supposed that if anyone knew what was best for wild young hobbits then it would be the Tooks.”

“Wild?” Bilbo asked incredulously. He’d never have thought to call Frodo wild. “He’s a perfectly sweet child. And very bright. Whatever do you mean?”

“Dear Bilbo, you may just possibly have different ideas about how hobbits ought to behave.”

“Well,” Bilbo squirmed a little, “granted.”

“Yes he’s sweet and smart, but he’s also constantly running off, getting filthy, refuses to do what he’s told,” Esmeralda sighed. “And all the stealing! It’s only gotten worse since we’ve been here. _And he’s getting better at it._ ”

Bilbo sank down in his chair.

“But I think worst of all of it, he can see that we don’t know what to make of him,” Sara said, “And I don’t think he likes us.”

“We had hoped he would warm up to us. But he hasn’t. Not a bit.”

“I’m sure these things take time,” Bilbo said gently.

“And we will give him all the time he needs. It’s just worrying,” Sara murmured. “Merry is the only one who he seems to really love.”

“Apart from you and Thorin,” Esmeralda said. “He’s taken to the pair of you.”

“Well. We spoil him and tell him stories,” Bilbo said.

“Maybe he needs that,” Saradoc said.

“He needs something. Something he’s not getting from us, I think.” Esmeralda and Saradoc exchanges looks.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked quietly.

“We’ve been thinking to send him to a reform school,” Esmeralda said. “It seems to be the done thing among at least some of the Tooks.”

“Oh. I see,” Bilbo said, feeling stunned.

“Grandingar Academy, North Farthing,” Saradoc said. “Just south of Lake Evendim.”

“Very bleak up there,” Bilbo murmured.

“Well yes, but that’s the point. Show him the seriousness of life.”

Bilbo sat very still.

“Oh dear. Bilbo objects,” Esme said.

“It’s not really my business, I suppose,” Bilbo said, trying to speak lightly, but his heart hurt.

“We do value you, cousin Bilbo,” Esme said, “and you are important to Frodo. That’s very plain.”

‘“Thorin and I are extremely fond of him,” Bilbo said quietly. He’d said that already.

“He seems much happier when he comes back from visits with the pair of you,” Saradoc said.

“Well, we are happy to take care of him. Please always feel free to send him to us. And do let us know, if ever you need help. We want to help. Even after our visit here.” Bilbo smiled, “I hope to have Bag End again soon, but even if that doesn’t happen, I suppose we’ll set up somewhere in the Shire.” He trailed off caught by the notion that perhaps they could move to Buckland- help care for Frodo. Maybe that would stop all this talk of reform school. “So, I mean to say, that he’s always welcome.”

“That’s very kind of you Bilbo,” Esme said and she meant it.

“I wonder if it might be good for him to stay over with us? Perhaps tonight? Give you both a bit of a break?” Bilbo asked.

Esmeralda and Saradoc exchanged a look.

“I wonder if that wouldn’t be rewarding his bad behavior.”

“The matter with little Merry?” Bilbo asked and frowned, “he didn’t mean harm. You must know that.”

“Perhaps it would be good for him,” Saradoc said, “He’s been very sullen ever since. And we could use the break.”

“Don’t get us wrong,” Esmeralda said, “we love the boy. But it’s very difficult to give him all the attention he needs.”

“You’ve got a newborn,” Bilbo nodded, “you’re mourning Primula, it’s only been a short time since you were made Lord and and Lady of the Hall, and now Frodo has been placed in your charge on top of it all. This can’t have been an easy year for you.”

“A bit of an interesting year for you as well, cousin Bilbo,” Esmeralda said, “or two years, perhaps. Going off on such an adventure, getting married and returning to find Bag End taken from you.”

“I suppose we’ve all had an eventful time.”

“Do you think you’re finished having an eventful time?” she asked. Bilbo paused.

“Oh, you’re afraid I’ll move on to my next adventure, just as Frodo is getting accustomed to having Thorin and myself about?”

“Don’t vanish Bilbo,” Emeralda cautioned him. “Or, if you’re going to do it, do it now and don’t let the child grow more attached to you and your husband.”

“I won’t vanish,” Bilbo said solemnly.

“Good,” Saradoc said. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“If that’s the case, then you are welcome to care for Frodo,” Esme said, “And we would be grateful.” Bilbo nodded and finished his tea, feeling elated.

⁂

That afternoon he came to collect Frodo at the appointed time. Saradoc called him, and Frodo appeared from down the hallway, bolting to the door, bright-eyed.

“I’m ready!” Frodo cried.

“No you aren’t. Where’s your bag?” Bilbo asked him.

“Nanny will pack my bag,” Frodo said.

“What did I teach you?” Bilbo asked. Frodo blinked up at him.

“Don’t tell the Shirriffs anything?”

“Bilbo!” Saradoc hissed.

“It’s a joke, Sara,” Bilbo assured and patted Frodo’s back. “No, the thing about not asking servants to do something you can do yourself. Go on, go pack your bag.”

“Yes, sir,” Frodo said and darted off. Saradoc sighed, staring after him.

“Bilbo,” he said in a low voice, “were you serious about always being about to help?”

“Yes, I said so,” Bilbo frowned. Saradoc glanced at him.

“What about doing more than help?”

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked very quietly.

“Just. More. Do you think you and Thorin would be up for more than visits?”

“Are you saying…?” Bilbo blinked.

“I’m not saying anything, really. I’m just trying to find out how much of a commitment you and your husband might make.” He sighed, “I’ve known you nearly my whole life cousin Bilbo. I like you and I trust you. And Frodo likes you. If things don’t improve for the boy, I only wonder.”

“I would need to talk to my husband,” Bilbo said gently. Saradoc took a breath.

“Yes. Of course. I’m sorry.”

“Dear Saradoc,” Bilbo patted his shoulder, “you look as if you haven’t slept in a day or two.”

“That’s about right,” Saradoc admitted.

“Oh dear!” Bilbo said, “What if we took care of little Merry tonight too? Give you and Esme a chance to get some sleep?”

“You don’t know how to take care of a baby,” Saradoc said.

“But Thorin does!” Bilbo assured him, “he helped raise his nephews from babies.”

“I wonder, are Dwarf babies very different from hobbit babies?” Saradoc mused.

“I’m sure they’re not,” Bilbo said, “anyway, if we get into real trouble, you’re a five minute walk away.”

“Would you? Truly?” Saradoc looked relieved. “I really need some sleep.”

“Leave it to me and Thorin,” Bilbo said.

⁂

Frodo was beside himself with joy as they walked back to the cottage. Bilbo held Merry against his shoulder and observed the baby, who was staring out at the trees and fields as they walked.

“Merry is very smart,” Frodo said, hefting his bag. “But he tries to eat everything, and you can’t let him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Bilbo said, glancing at the baby, wondering if he’d done the wise thing, offering to care for him. But he had Thorin and Frodo to help keep an eye on him. Surely they could manage one night.

⁂

The evening passed gently, much more gently than Bilbo had anticipated. He’d always thought babies screamed most of the time, but little Merry only screamed a bit. Mostly he pulled himself along on the floor, blinking and cooing, and making happy noises when he located Frodo. Frodo, who was trying to read, would sit patiently and let Merry pull at him, even tugging his hair. Thorin chuckled and sat on the floor.

“He wants you to pay attention to him.”

“I know,” Frodo said, and carefully pushed Merry’s grasping hands away from his book. Bilbo smiled.

“How about I pick up where we left off again with There and Back Again? You can listen and play with him.” Frodo looked up, eager, and put his book away. Bilbo smiled and eased into the tale. He’d gotten them to the goblin caves now.

Frodo listened raptly, even as he presented Merry with a soft rabbit toy they’d brought for him. Bilbo leaned back, enjoying the peace and warmth of their little group and how it contrasted so sharply with the story he was telling- when he’d been all alone in a dark tunnel.

Merry soon became sleepy and Thorin placed him into a basket, nestling him in among the blankets and bedding packed down for him. He put it on the floor nearby, and gently rocked it, as Bilbo continued the story. He was playing riddles with Gollum now and fearing more and more that no matter the outcome of the game, he would be eaten.

Frodo curled close to Thorin, laying on the floor, listening quietly. Bilbo continued the story, breaking out into the fresh air from the tunnel, losing his buttons, and racing down to join his friends. He paused and gazed down. Frodo was asleep. Thorin met his eyes and Bilbo moved down from the couch to sit on the floor with them. He stayed quiet for a moment.

“Dear boy. We’ve worn him out,” Bilbo said softly. “Both of them, I should say.”

“He’s so tiny,” Thorin said, looking down at Frodo. Bilbo turned, surprised at Thorin’s tone. It was hushed and awed. He’d only ever heard Thorin speak like that a few times before. 

“He’s a just a bit short for his age, but not much,” Bilbo said, quietly.

“His hands are so small,” Thorin added in the same hushed tone.

“He’s a hobbit, darling, we’re like that,” Bilbo murmured.

“He’s so clever, and daring, and kind.”

“Yes,” Bilbo agreed,reaching out to stroke Thorin’s hair, “and we get to dote on him as uncles.”

“I am glad of that,” Thorin said slowly. He was silent a long moment before saying very quietly, “come, we mustn’t let him sleep on the floor like this.”

“No, I suppose not,” Bilbo sighed and reached over to touch Frodo’s shoulder.

“Frodo, lad? Come, time for bed.”

Frodo wriggled a little, and then went limp once more.

“Come on, you’ll have to do a little better than that,” Bilbo chuckled.

“Uhmnm,” Frodo murmured. Thorin laughed softly.

“Shall Uncle Thorin carry you?” he asked.

“Mhmhm.”

“I’d take that as a yes,” Bilbo said and stood up. He took Merry’s basket and Thorin reached down to lift Frodo up. The boy clung, limp and very much half asleep, as Thorin walked into the office that had been converted into a bedroom. Thorin put Frodo down on the bed as Bilbo drew Merry up from his basket and carefully put him down in the crib. The baby squirmed sleepily but fell back asleep almost at once.

Thorin and Bilbo eased out and set about banking fires and shutting up the cottage for the night. When they were finished and in their bedroom, preparing for bed, Thorin paused as he sat on the bed, looking thoughtful.

“Do hobbits allow a child to be guarded by more than one family?”

“Hm?” Bilbo paused as he buttoned his night shirt, “not in a formal way. But it’s very common for extended family to help raise children.”

“And do you think the Brandybucks would allow us to help raise Frodo?”

“Yes. I think so,” Bilbo murmured, “In fact, Saradoc asked if we might be willing to take care of Frodo for more than visits.”

“What does that mean exactly?” Thorin asked. Bilbo ruffled his curls, slightly agitated.

“I’m not sure. And I’m not sure how serious he was. The poor fellow was exhausted. And it may have been that exhaustion talking. I want to speak to him and Esme after they’ve had a chance to rest.”

“But you think he was offering us the chance to adopt Frodo?”

“I think perhaps that’s what he was saying.”

“And if he was, is that something that you would want?” Thorin asked.

“It’s a fairly large if,” Bilbo said slowly. “And anyway, it’s not my choice, it’s our choice.”

“Yes, but I would like to know your heart in the matter,” Thorin said gently.

“Oh. I don’t know,” Bilbo said quietly. “I adore the boy, but I’m not a very good role model am I?”

“You are a fine role model.”

“Thank you, but-”

“Besides, what you lack in honesty I can make up for.”

Bilbo froze, stunned and stared at his husband. Thorin quivered then belted out a laugh.

“Honesty! Honesty?” Bilbo hissed.

“I am jesting, my sweet,” Thorin shook his head, still quivering with laughter, as he gently clasped Bilbo’s hand. “Will you let me kiss you, my honest burglar?”

“Oh I suppose so,” Bilbo sniffed, then smiled as he leaned in to kiss Thorin. He drew back and cupped his cheeks. “I like it when you laugh. It makes me happy.” Thorin’s expression softened further and he bent to rest his forehead against Bilbo’s. Bilbo’s smile eased away into peace and he closed his eyes.

“And where is your heart in this matter?” he asked. Thorin drew back, his eyes solemn.

“I am growing to love the child. And I would take him as my own.”

“Oh, Thorin,” Bilbo murmured and brushed his hair back and tucked his face against Thorin’s neck. “But we must have a home before we can think of such things.” Thorin’s arms came up, holding him close.

“We have a home.”

“A house, then, I mean. Or a hole.”

“A matter of time,” Thorin murmured in his ear. “And then?”

“Well. And then, we could perhaps. Take him on. I mean.”

“We could indeed.”


	5. Chapter 5

> _☞Attend_
> 
> the special feast to be held in honor of PALADIN TOOK’s homecoming at the Driving Club THIS EVENING at 7 o’clock PM supper and dinner to be served. Punctual attendance encouraged.
> 
> _Eglantine Took_
> 
> _-Tookland Weekly Observer_

* * *

  
Bilbo and Thorin set out together in the afternoon, walking across the rolling hills of Tookland. They were headed to the Driving Club, an ancient Bank, delved hundreds of years ago, and now home to the Carriage Racing Club that so many young Tooks belonged to. It was a favorite spot of Paladin Took, Bilbo’s boyhood friend, who was coming home to a grand party at the Club. Bilbo and Thorin had been invited, along with nearly all of Tookland.

They’d set out a little late, but Bilbo didn’t see any reason they had to be exactly on time. He had some vague notion that he might try and get a word with Paladin. Paladin was remarkably clever, with a sharp wit and good memory. Bilbo was hoping very much that Paladin could think of something that could convince Fortinbras, for the Thain would of course be at the party as well.

As they walked across the hills, they encountered a few other hobbits who were likewise making their way south to the Driving Club. Bilbo knew most of them and waved politely. He was mid-wave when he spotted Grindorol Bracegirdle. Bilbo soured instantly.

Grindorol straightened and made for them.

“Damn it,” Bilbo muttered.

“Is that your troublesome relation?”

“Yes,” Bilbo sighed.

“Bilbo Baggins!” Grindorol cried as he approached, “You won’t best me this time. No more vanishing. Now, let’s have this out like gentlehobbits.”

“Have what out?” Thorin asked. Grindorol paused and looked up at Thorin.

“Never mind him,” Bilbo said to Thorin, “he’s a silly thing. No one is having anything out.”

“I say! Yes we are! I challenge you to a duel!”

“Nonsense,” Bilbo scoffed.

“You refuse?” Grindorol cried, “No, I won’t allow you to refuse. I will have my dignity restored!”

“Ugh!” Bilbo growled through his teeth. He could feel Thorin bristle behind him and swore he would not let this hobbit upset his husband. Frodo and Bag End were so much on his mind that he really could not handle much more.

“Are you still going on about that?” Bilbo shouted at him. Grindorol blinked, looking somewhat startled by Bilbo’s sudden fury. “Why don’t you go find something _real_ to be upset about, you fucking nuisance.”

“Oh dear,” Thorin murmured.

“You,” Grindorol said uncertainty, “you tarnished my name-”

“Keep bothering me and I’ll tarnish more than your blasted name!” Bilbo spat. Grindorol brightened, on more familiar ground now.

“Yes. Our duel!”

“I’m not dueling you.”

“But-”

“He’s not dueling you,” Thorin said in a growl.

“If you don’t like the Took’s whispering about you, then go literally anywhere else in the Shire,” Bilbo snarled, “You know as well as I do that no one gives a damn what the Tooks say outside of Tookland. Any hobbit with half sense would have lit out of here before Adalgrim’s notice was published. But not you! You’re so proud and stupid that you hung about here and _antagonized_ me. Well let me tell you, you do not bullshit a bullshitter and you do not antagonize Bilbo Baggins.”

“Eh?” Grindorol frowned in confusion.

“He antagonized a dragon,” Thorin said.

“Dragon bothering was only one of my numerous and diverse antagonisms,” Bilbo nodded, “I also antagonized a shapeshifter, three trolls, an Elf King-”

“A Dwarf King.”

“Ah,” Bilbo squinted up at Thorin. Thorin tried to look stern, but snorted. Bilbo cleared his throat meaningfully and went on.

“A forsaken murderous creature at the bottom of a goblin mountain, a pack of giant spiders, as well as most of the hobbits I’m related to.”

“I fail to see how any of this-”

“Don’t forget Gandalf,” Thorin said. Bilbo blinked and looked up.

“Gandalf? No! He finds me exceedingly charming.”

“Not when he calls you _Mr. Baggins_ , he doesn’t.”

“That’s just one of his little jokes.”

“You think so, Mr. Baggins?” Thorin chuckled and reached out to play with one of Bilbo’s curls.

“I do think so, Thorin son of Thráin son of Thrór,” Bilbo flirted back.

“Look here,” Grindorol said loudly, “we’re going to have a duel! And settle this properly.”

“Why are you still here?” Bilbo snapped at him. “Go away.”

Grindorol stared at him, mouth slightly open. He gathered himself, looking very perturbed.

“You are impossible Bilbo Baggins.”

“Yes I am,” Bilbo said. Grindorol watched him a long moment,

“I. I shall have to redeem my name in some other way then,” Grindorol said.

“Glad we had this talk,” Bilbo said coldly. Grindorol stared at him, then turned and left. Bilbo watched him go. “Good heavens. Finally!” he muttered. “At least there’s one problem solved.”

⁂

They continued on, picking their way through the Took’s fields of rye and barley. Despite their run-in with Grindorol they still might not be too late. If nothing else happened.

“Oh dear,” Thorin said. Bilbo closed his eyes. Nothing ever went according to plan lately. He lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking where Thorin was pointing.

Frodo Baggins was creeping through a distant fenced off meadow, where the Tooks cultivated mushrooms. The boy was greedily stuffing the caps into his sack.

“Oh,” Bilbo cried, overcome. Thorin moves closer to peer into his face, but Bilbo was staring after Frodo.

“Bilbo?”

“That little babe is going to get himself into so much trouble.”

“Well,” Thorin frowned.

“Look at him go. Incorrigible.”

“Incorrigible? No!”

“So many crimes.”

“Bilbo Baggins stop slandering our precious nephew.”

“Oh Thorin.”

“What?”

“My Took side is winning again.”

“I usually enjoy it when the Took side wins,” Thorin remarked.

“But this is so impulsive! And it’s not just my life I risk overturning now…”

“Just what is the Took side telling you to do?” Thorin asked. Bilbo clasped his hands together.

“Apply for guardianship of that little boy. I wasn’t sure about it until now. But. I really do want to adopt him,” he said quietly. Thorin blinked in surprise.

“And it was watching him steal mushrooms that was the deciding factor?”

“No, it’s-” Bilbo paused, frowning. Thorin waited. Bilbo took a breath, then eased. “All I’m saying,” he said, his voice light, “is that I have some experience breaking people out of jail. Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandybuck can’t provide for him in that way.” Thorin watched him, then chuckled and put an arm around Bilbo.

“Speaking as one of the beneficiaries of your talents, I wholeheartedly agree,” he said. Bilbo bowed his head.

“So, shall we really make a serious try at adopting him?” he asked, taking Thorin’s hand and turning in his arm to gaze up at him. Thorin smiled, his heart in his eyes.

“Let your Took side win, darling,” he said in a low warm voice. Bilbo reached up and touched his cheek, a flutter of joy rising within him.

“Another adventure together,” he said wistfully. Thorin leaned down and kissed him.

They were broken from the moment by the barking of a dog. Bilbo turned to see two large dogs alerted on Frodo from across the field. They were sprinting full tilt toward him. Both Bilbo and Thorin set off running toward him. Frodo, who had seen the dogs but had not yet spotted them, sprang up, though he didn’t run. He was too busy shoving mushrooms into his mouth.

“Oh my lord, Frodo!” Bilbo cried, “stop eating those shrooms and run you little terror!”

He put a finger to his mouth, whistling loudly. Frodo’s head snapped around and he bolted toward them, the dogs in hot pursuit.

“Here lad!” Bilbo cried, running out to meet him, waving. When Frodo got close, he leapt up into his arms and Bilbo caught him, just as before. Thorin strode out in front of them, confronting the dogs with a glower. The dogs halted, growling.

“I told you to watch the dogs!” Bilbo cried.

“I shut them up in their pen,” Frodo said bitterly, glaring at the dogs, “They must have jumped the fence!”

“Oh dear!” Bilbo laughed and hugged the boy as they retreated.

⁂

They missed Paladin’s arrival completely, trailing into the Driving Club as dusk set in. The party was already started, with everyone sitting down to dinner.

Frodo had come with them. He was supposed to have been making his way there to meet Saradoc and Esmeralda- the mushroom thievery having been a side errand- and he was dressed in party clothes. They were only a bit soiled despite his trek through the meadow.

The journey to the Club had been bright and happy. Frodo had begged for more of There and Back and Again, so Thorin and Bilbo had told him of the perils after the goblin cave, how they’d been tracked and chased up a tree. Thorin had contributed to the story wonderfully, singing the goblin song in a loud booming voice, while Bilbo described the wolves and the fire, and the rescue by the eagles.

When they arrived at last, Bilbo and Thorin took the time to take Frodo to the pump to wash his hands and muddy feet. Bilbo was able to get most of the mud off his own clothes as well.

“I didn’t mean to get you muddy, Uncle,” Frodo said.

“No harm done,” Bilbo laughed, “but what will we do with your mushroom sack? What was your plan?” Frodo paused, looking at the bag beside him.

“I didn’t have one. Besides eating them.”

“That won’t do. Well,” Bilbo sat back. “Thorin, my dear, you’re the only one of us with a pack. Are you willing to harbor stolen goods?”

“Oh,” Frodo gasped, “No, I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Thorin smiled kindly at him.

“I will safeguard your mushrooms,” he said, “and if there is trouble for it, I am strong enough to take the fall with you.” Frodo sat very still.

“Thank you,” he said, “but now I do wish I hadn’t stolen them.”

“It’s a hard thing, planning ahead,” Bilbo said gently, “and considering matters beyond your own stomach. But sometimes a hobbit must.” Frodo considered this and then nodded.

They went inside and sat down to dinner. Bilbo and Thorin were drawn to a table near the front of the Hall, while Frodo was spotted by the Brandybucks and he went to go and eat with them. The food was splendid and piled high.

“This is wonderful,” Thorin murmured to him during a lull in the conversation.

“Isn’t it?” Bilbo smiled, sipping his beer.

“There’s something of home in this,” Thorin said quietly. “I would have never guessed that hobbits have these kinds of large communal gatherings, feasts in their ancient halls.”

“It’s not something that outsiders see much,” Bilbo mused, “not because they aren’t welcome, of course.” Thorin nodded.

“We don’t take note of you,” he sighed.

“And we keep to ourselves.”

“I am very glad to be here,” Thorin said. Bilbo reached under the table and touched his hand.

⁂

After dinner, the guests dispersed to gather into clusters in the Grand Hall. There was a band and dancing, but Bilbo didn’t really feel like dancing. He wanted to try and get a word with Paladin, but he was surrounded by a crowd and Bilbo felt even less like pressing among all those hobbits. Thorin was drawn into conversation with some of the older Chiefs and Bilbo wandered off to find a quiet place to sit. Maybe he could try and think of some event that he had shared in with Paladin.

He hadn’t been sitting long when Frodo came to join him. He sat down on the brick hearth before the fire. Bilbo thought he might beg stories, but Frodo didn’t.

“Are you hiding away in case they remember it’s getting close to your bedtime?” Bilbo asked quietly. Frodo smiled.

“Yes,” he laughed a little.

“No fear. Saradoc and Esmeralda will be deep into this party for some hours. If you keep a low profile you won’t get loaded into the cart with the other children and driven back to the Smials.”

“Especially if I am with a responsible adult.”

“Oh dear. Maybe you’d better go find one of those,” Bilbo said and Frodo giggled. They sat together in silence.

“Uncle Bilbo, is something the matter?” Frodo asked, “You’re usually talking to people at parties, or telling stories.”

“Hm,” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t much feel like it.” Frodo looked a little worried. “There’s nothing really the matter. It’s just that I have things on my mind. And I hoped I could talk to Paladin about some problem I’m having. But he’s very busy. It’s his party. Of course.”

“What problem?”

“Oh, lad,” Bilbo murmured. “It’s that I’m having a hard time proving I am Bilbo Baggins. At least, proving it to the Thain’s satisfaction,” he sighed. “Paladin might be able to help with that.”

“The Thain doesn’t believe you?” Frodo frowned.

“He doesn’t.”

“Then why bother with him?” the boy asked.

“Ah. Well I have to, if I want my home back. When I went off on that adventure, I left in such a hurry. No time to make arrangements, you see. When I had not been heard from for more than a year, I was declared dead, and some unpleasant relatives moved into my abandoned home- even though it wasn’t abandoned. Not really. And now, I can’t shift them. Not without some kind of official order.”

“Oh,” Frodo considered this, his features growing serious. “I’m sorry. It’s a very hard thing.” He paused and added, “I can’t go home either.” Bilbo turned to peer down at him, caught by Frodo’s words.

“Oh. Come here, lad,” he said. Frodo climbed up and Bilbo hugged him. “You're young, so this may be a bit hard to understand, but you see, there will be people in your life, people who you don’t even know yet, who will love you and you them, so that you find home with them. And it may be that you will have many homes, with many people. Pieces of home all around you. Wherever you’ve friends and family.” Frodo looked thoughtful.

“Like you and the Dwarves?”

“Yes, like me and the Dwarves,” Bilbo said quietly.

“Will you tell me more of your adventure?” Frodo asked, sleepily, and curled up. Bilbo smiled.

“Yes, of course I will.”

⁂

Bilbo thought Frodo would fall asleep quickly, but he held on through their stay with Beorn and through the tale of the forest. It was only after they were captured by the Elves that Bilbo noticed Frodo drop off.

He sat with Frodo and watched the fire and listened to the music of the party. The worry from earlier had eased. He didn’t have to talk to Paladin tonight. It could wait.

After a time, Thorin came over, and with him, Fortinbras. Thorin squeezed himself onto the sofa on Bilbo’s free side and Fortinbras sat across from them.

“What’s this?” Fortinbras said fondly, “this little babe missed the carriage back, didn’t he?”

“We’ll see to him,” Bilbo said.

“You two know it’s bad form to poach someone else’s ward, don’t you?” Fortinbras teased. Bilbo recognized the tease and joined in.

“Nobody asked you,” he said, squinting. Thorin drew in a breath of alarm.

“You speak like that to your ruler?” he said in a soft surprised voice. Bilbo cuddled into his side.

“You are my only king.”

Thorin blushed.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear any of that,” Fortinbras laughed.

“Good. It wasn’t meant for you.”

“You know there are laws on the books that make what you just said an act of treason,” Fortinbras pressed wickedly.

Bilbo lifted his arm and was about to make a very rude gesture when Thorin hissed and caught his hand. Bilbo scowled at him, but Thorin was unmoved.

“Perhaps,” Thorin whispered in his ear, “if we ever want a chance of being this boy’s guardian and regaining your proper name, then just possibly you should not offend the leader of all the hobbits.”

“It’s alright, master Dwarf,” Fortinbras said warmly, “I have a sense of humor and I find this new Bilbo’s antics to be vastly enjoyable.”

“Ah! There, see? Fortinbras appreciates my spirit.”

“If that’s what we are calling it,” Fortinbras said, raising his eyebrows.

They went on in conservation, but soon enough, Thorin was called away once more, asked to give a report of the Lonely Mountain and the return of governance in that section. Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to rise, as Frodo was still sleeping on his arm. Fortinbras too seemed in no hurry to rejoin the crowd of Chiefs, Clerks, and other officials. Instead, he and Bilbo spoke quietly to one another on the old days in Tookland, when Bilbo’s grandfather was Thain and there were magnificent parties featuring Gandalf’s fireworks.

Fortinbras was in the middle of a story from his youth, when he and three cousins challenged Gandalf to a smoking contest, when a servant approached them.

“Urgent letter, sir,” the servant said. Fortinbras sighed and took the letter, sending Bilbo a look.

“Urgent, yes I’m sure,” he said, chuckling, “we’ll see.”

The old hobbit opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. His amusement died.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo said softly, “bad news?”

Fortinbras looked up from his letter and fixed Bilbo in a bitter, disbelieving look.

“The Treasury has been broken into,” he said softly. Bilbo blinked and cocked his head, not understanding. “The cufflinks,” Fortinbras murmured.

“What’s this?”

“The Old Took’s diamond studded cufflinks,” Fortinbras said, “they’ve been stolen.”

“What in the Shire?” Bilbo said slowly. This wasn’t done. Not here.

Fortinbras went very still. His gaze bore into Bilbo and Bilbo was shocked to see fury in the old man’s face.

“Bilbo,” he said, his voice rising, “I gave you one simple requirement. It was fair, I thought. But you couldn’t do this the right way, could you?”

“What?” Bilbo squeaked. Beside him, Frodo stirred and opened his eyes, blinking and frowning.

“Don’t insult me! I’ve been blackmailed before, and by much more clever hobbits than you, Bilbo Baggins,” Fortinbras said loudly. Bilbo tensed, and put an arm on Frodo’s shoulder, not wanting him to see this. Fortinbras took no notice of the boy, however. He continued his tirade, “I understand my position perfectly. I give you Bag End, and the Old Took’s diamond cufflinks find their way back into the Treasury.”

“Fortinbras, I didn’t steal those cufflinks! I swear to you,” Bilbo sputtered.

“You’ve been parading about calling yourself a burglar. Well, you’ve shown us. And here I thought you were all talk,” the old hobbit suddenly looked very tired. “I should have known better.”

“I did not do this,” Bilbo said quietly. His mind was whirring. “But I think-”

Fortinbras raised a hand and two hobbitry-in-arms approached quickly from across the Hall, drawing their batons. Bilbo gasped and stood, putting Frodo behind him.

“No need for that,” Bilbo said quickly, “Please don’t frighten Frodo.” The Thain paused, noting the boy.

“Take him away, find one of the Brandybucks,” he said to the guard. One of the hobbits tried to take Frodo’s hand and pull him up but Frodo jerked away and bolted to the old man.

“I stole the cufflinks!” he cried.

Fortinbras turned and stared down at him.

“What, boy?”

“I stole the cufflinks. The ones in the Treasury. I’m a thief. Just ask my Aunt and Uncle. They know how bad I am.”

“Frodo!” Bilbo pushed past the guard and took him by the shoulder. Frodo broke into tears. “I’m sorry Uncle Bilbo,” he cried, “I took them. I didn’t mean for you to get in trouble.”

“No you did not take them, you dear child,” Bilbo said quietly and bent to embrace him.

“I did. I did.”

“Hush now,” Bilbo murmured. Frodo held tight to him. He looked up to see Fortinbras holding a hand up to stop the guards from approaching. Bilbo shifted his attention back to Frodo, rocking him in an effort to sooth him. “Find your Uncle Thorin,” Bilbo whispered to him. Frodo stilled. “Can you be a brave lad?” Bilbo murmured to him. Frodo drew back and nodded.

“Alright, go on,” Fortinbras said quietly. The guard came and took Frodo by the shoulder, steering him down the Hall and into one of the side smials. Bilbo watched him go, pained. When the sounds of their feet died away, he drew a breath and stood. Fortinbras eyed him.

“I’ll let you walk out of here on two conditions,” he said, “First, return the cufflinks, and second, you are to leave the Shire. And you may not come back.”

“Oh,” Bilbo said softly.

“It’s a more generous offer than you deserve. But then, there are circumstances.”

“My husband the king?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this is somewhat problematic,” Bilbo said softly, “in that I don’t have the cufflinks to return.” He paused, adding, “What happens if I want to clear my name?”

“Then I send you to our lockholes and we’ll have a trial.”

“Oh,” Bilbo sniffed and nodded his head, thinking it over. “Then I accept.”

“The exile?”

“No no, the lockholes.”

“Hm.”

Fortinbras said no more, only waved to the remaining guard who stepped up to Bilbo’s side. Bilbo paused, then turned and followed the guard, passing out of the fine furnished halls of the Club and down a smaller hall, which arched down and after a long while came to an end with a set of small doors. They passed outside and Bilbo was loaded into a carriage. The guard slammed the door closed and Bilbo heard a lock being turned.

He blinked and turned to look out the small window at the guard. This didn’t feel real. It felt like he should make a joke. But nothing sprang to mind. The hobbit glowered at him, then retreated out of sight.

A moment later the carriage jolted into motion. He took a breath and looked out into the night sky.

“Good job, Bilbo,” he muttered to himself.


	6. Chapter 6

> _ARRESTED!!_
> 
> _Nabbed here, Bilbo Baggins Had Robbery in his Past_
> 
> _A hobbit claiming to be Bilbo Baggins of Hobbiton was arrested this evening for robbery and placed in the lockholes and will have to explain matters in a trial to be held at the Thain’s call. At this time we cannot report on the haul, but it is said that the scoundrel’s take was significant._
> 
> _Baggins has been known to tell stories of his recent exploits and from the recollection of those who heard him, we can report that Baggins’ crime spree has only been growing bolder these two years past. According to reports, his crimes began as minor pickpocket affairs, but soon escalated to breaking into vast treasuries. Some sources say that his latest crime was more of the same._
> 
> _The disgraced fellow claims his innocence, but with a past like this, the Thain must consider the hobbit to be an incorrigible criminal._
> 
> _-Special from the Tookland Observer_   
>    
> 

* * *

Bilbo sat with his back to the cold stone wall of his cell. He’d been that way for a long while. He was just beginning to consider lying down on the mat in the back of his cell, when he heard the sound of footsteps. Bilbo perked up and stood, listening.

“Hello?” he called.

“Bilbo!”

Bilbo caught his breath. It was Thorin! A moment later Thorin’s shape emerged from the gloom of the tunnel as he rushed to the cell. He held Frodo, though, when Frodo caught sight of him, he lept down and rushed in front, slipping through the bars.

“Oh!” Bilbo cried and fell to his knees, so that Frodo could throw his arms around him. Bilbo reached through the bars and grasped Thorin’s hand.

“Oh dear,” Bilbo said, squeezing his hand, “I always thought that when you'd come and visit me in jail it would at least be because I did something to deserve the sentence.”

“Why didn’t you let them believe it was me?” Frodo demanded. Bilbo sat up, surprised to see such anger in Frodo’s face.

“Because you didn’t steal it, darling.”

“They didn’t know that!” Frodo cried, “It would have been so much better. What could they do to me? Send me to some school? I’m already headed there. They wouldn’t banish me. And even if they did I don’t care!”

“I’m not going to let you take the blame for something you didn’t do,” Bilbo said gently. “We co-conspirators, we must look out for one another, hm?” Frodo’s eyes filled with tears and Bilbo pulled him close once more. “It’s alright.”

“No it’s not. You’re in prison and even if you get out, he’s banished you. I’ll never see you again,” Frodo said, his voice anguished.

“Nonsense!” Bilbo said quickly, “I won’t let that happen. Besides, he hasn’t banished me yet, and I’m still working on a way to clear my name.”

Frodo drew back, his breathing a little calmer.

“How are you?” Thorin asked. Bilbo petted Frodo’s head and turned to his husband.

“I’m quite alright. No need to fuss,” he sighed, “I am sorry for all this. I ruined a very nice party I think.”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Thorin said firmly, “this slander against you, and the rush to judgement from your Thain, that ruined it. And I find it all intolerable.”

“Ah well, Fortinbras has his reasons. I don’t blame him really. It was a little foolish I suppose, going about telling everyone about my exploits like that. But I didn’t think there would be any consequence beyond dirty looks. I never imagined this.”

“Your Thain has said as much to me, when he told me of the charges against you,” Thorin said darkly, “That if you didn’t want to be suspected then you should not have spoken of your deeds.It is foul logic and I told him so.”

“Oh I suppose. But, that’s what the trial is for,” Bilbo sighed.

“If you will tell me what cufflinks are, then I will make new ones for them,” Thorin said. “Far more splendid ones too. They had diamonds? Then I will make ones with diamonds and sapphires and emeralds and rubies. Were the old ones made of gold? Then these will be mithril! Whatever they want,” Thorin said. Bilbo sighed and rubbed Thorin’s hand.

“Oh, my dear. It’s not a question of value. The diamond cufflinks were the prized possession of my grandfather, the Old Took. They were magic too, gifted to him by Gandalf. They’ve become both a symbol of the Old Took- he was beloved by the whole Shire- and a symbol for the Took clan and their power. The links are their greatest most beloved treasure, passed from one Thain to the next. And they think that I could have stolen such a thing!” he added with disgust.

Thorin paused, then turned and gave him a look. He didn’t say anything- he didn’t have to.

“Thorin! They don’t know about that!” Bilbo cried out as he sat up. Thorin raised his eyebrows, then snorted, chuckling. “I know who is behind it of course,” Bilbo sighed, “it’s Grin. He’s set me up.”

“Are you certain?”

“You saw how he was still holding that grudge. And when I didn’t give him some way to sooth his bruised ego he did this!”

“He seemed very silly. Are you sure someone else couldn’t have stolen it?”

“Thievery doesn’t really happen in the Shire-” he broke off and glanced at Frodo, “mushroom thievery aside. No, something like this? It’s extraordinary, and it’s aimed at me- the famed King’s Burglar.” Bilbo shook his head, “That foolish ass is ready to ruin my chance at a life in the Shire, over some petty grievance. Puffed up rubbish-delver! I could just murder him!” Bilbo spat. Thorin fixed him with a stern look.

“Husband,” he rumbled, casting a brief meaningful look down at Frodo and then back to Bilbo. Bilbo pursed his lips.

“I won’t do it in front of Frodo,” he said primly. Thorin sighed and didn’t reply. “Thorin! When a hobbit says such a thing it is a joke!”

“I know.”

“Good,” Bilbo slumped against the bars and absently patted Frodo’s back. “We need some proof against him.”

“I’ll find proof,” Frodo vowed.

“No dear,” Bilbo said, “he’s a terrible hobbit. I don’t want you crossing paths with him.”

“No, _I’m_ a terrible hobbit and he’d better not cross my path,” Frodo growled.

“You are not a terrible hobbit,” Bilbo told him firmly, “And no revenge plots, lad. This is my problem to handle.”

“Well, I will not allow you to be held in prison, proof or no proof,” Thorin said, “I will go to this hobbit and compel him to admit his part in this plot.”

“I doubt you’ll get far that way,” Bilbo said, then glanced at Thorin. “Or, maybe you will. Oh dear, I haven’t seen you glower like that for some time.” Bilbo paused and shook his head, “No, Thorin dear, I’d be too afraid that it would look as if you had threatened him into a confession.”

“But that is what I intend.”

“A false confession.”

“Oh.”

“Fortinbras won’t look kindly on that. I don’t want you in trouble too.”

“Then what should we do?” Frodo asked.

“I’ll come up with something,” Bilbo said with more confidence than he felt. Thorin smiled.

“You’re Uncle Bilbo is very good with coming up with plans, especially when he’s in a tight spot,” he told Frodo.

“How about I tell you how I got the Dwarves out of the Elf King’s prison,” Bilbo said, “oh, if it’s not too late?”

“I want to hear,” Frodo said.

“I think there’s time enough for that,” Thorin said. Bilbo leaned back and began to tell the story, picking up where he’d left off.

⁂

By the time he’d got the story to the barrels being loaded into the river, Frodo was yawning. Thorin reached through the bars to brush Bilbo’s cheek.

“That was well told, love,” he said.

“Thank you,” Bilbo said quietly. Thorin’s attention shift to Frodo.

“Come here, little bird,” he said, “time you got to bed.” Frodo sat up and slipped out through the bars once more and Thorin leaned down to take him up into his arms.

“It must be late. I’m sorry if I’ve got you into trouble,” Bilbo said.

“I’m staying with Uncle Thorin tonight,” Frodo said quietly.

“Oh?”

Thorin nodded.

“Frodo was a bit upset earlier, and Saradoc and Esmeralda thought it might be for the best,” he said.   
  
“Oh, Frodo,” Bilbo said and rose, sticking his hand through the bars to brush Frodo’s curls back. “Thorin,” he said, “I’m going back with you and tuck him in.” Thorin’s eyes widened. Frodo sat up, frowning.

“They’ll let you out?”

“Hmm, no,” Bilbo plucked a lock pick from his vest pocket and reached around to fit it into the lock. It snapped open.

“But they’ll see you Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo whispered. Bilbo looked up and grinned. He stuck his hand into his pocket and vanished.

Frodo almost cried out but stifled his voice.

“He’s still here,” Thorin said, “but hidden to all eyes.”

“That’s right,” Bilbo said, easing out of the cell. “And as long as I’m not gone too long, I doubt I’ll be missed.”

“It’s still a bit of a chance,” Thorin murmured.

“It is,” Bilbo conceded, “but I want to do this.”

“Very well,” Thorin said and turned, walking up the narrow hall. “You must not speak of this magic to anyone,” he said to Frodo.

“I shan’t,” Frodo whispered back.

⁂

The lockholes were located under the Great Smials, and so with only a short walk up the twisting tunnel and then across the courtyard, they were back to Bilbo and Thorin’s little cottage. Bilbo was once again grateful for the cottage. It would have been much more risky if they’d been given a room within the Bank- someone might hear Bilbo’s voice or see his shadow as he walked the halls.

They entered the cottage and Bilbo slipped the ring off and put it safely away in his pocket once more. Thorin went to heat a pot of warm milk for them, and Frodo made himself ready for bed. When Bilbo entered and sat at his bedside, Frodo was already under the blankets, sipping the warm milk.

“Thank you for breaking out of jail to tuck me in,” he murmured. Bilbo smiled.

“Any time, my dear lad. What song would you like tonight?”

“Walking song,” Frodo said. It was his favorite. Bilbo sang it for him as Frodo finished his drink and placed the mug on his bedside table. He snuggled down into the thick blankets.

“If they really do think you stole the cufflinks, and you have to go away, then can I come with you and Uncle Thorin?” Frodo asked very quietly.

“We really ought not make plans until that happens,” Bilbo said faintly.

“Maybe not, but I want to go with you,” Frodo murmured. “I don’t care about the Shire and Buckland.”

“Yes you do, this is your home,” Bilbo said gently. Frodo shook his head.

“I’d be alright out in the Wild as long as I was with both of you. I’d be good. I wouldn’t go off by myself. And I’d be useful. At least, I’d try to be.”

“I know you would be,” Bilbo said, “you’re clever and resourceful. Those are the two most important things to have out there.”

“Then I could go live in the Wild with you?”

“Hm,” Bilbo mused, “I don’t think we need live in the wilderness. We could live in Bree maybe.”

“I’d like that.”

“I could open a book shop. Or a bakery.”

“Bookshop and a bakery. I’ll help you run it.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’m sure I’ll need the help,” Bilbo said softly.

“I’m good with numbers,” Frodo said, his eyes closing, “I’ll do the accounts.”

“Oh wonderful.”

“And Uncle Thorin?”

“He’s a very good baker,” Bilbo said smiling. “But I suppose we ought to ask him what he’d like to do before we just give him a job in our bookshop-bakery.”

“Mm.”

“And I’ll plant little window boxes full of flowers, and make tea for the customers, free of charge,” Bilbo said, going on about their life in Bree as he watched Frodo fall asleep.

⁂

Bilbo went out, closing the door behind him, and walked quietly to the kitchen. Thorin was still there, seated and looking lost. Bilbo went to him and put his arms around those broad shoulders.

“How is he?” Thorin asked softly.

“He’s afraid,” Bilbo murmured into his ear. “I hate that.”

“I will do all that I can to ease his mind,” Thorin said. Bilbo leaned down to place a kiss on his head.

“Thank you, love.”

Thorin turned and rose, taking Bilbo into his arms. Bilbo closed his eyes at the feeling of Thorin cupping his cheek. He leaned in and spoke in Khuzdul - Bilbo didn’t understand it all but he knew enough now to know that Thorin was blessing him with words of love and protection.

“Do what you are best at,” Thorin said into the quiet, “doing the impossible and coming back afterwards.”

“I will do everything in my power to,” Bilbo said. He didn’t make a joke as he usually would when strong emotion took him. Instead he let that emotion show on his face. He looked at Thorin and covered his hand. “I love you,” he said.

“And I love you,” Thorin said solemnly, “If you need me, you have only to call. I will tear that jail cell apart if you say the word.”

“Oh, tempting but let’s don’t add to the charges,” Bilbo chuckled. Thorin smiled at him, then bent and kissed his forehead.

⁂

Bilbo bid Thorin goodnight and slipped his ring on once more, going to the back door. He paused before the door, steeling himself. He felt such a great reluctance to leave, but he made himself reach for the door handle.

“Uncle Thorin?” came Frodo’s voice. Bilbo halted and turned back. He heard Thorin walk down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Uncle Bilbo will be alright, won’t he? No matter what they do?”

“Yes, dear child,” Thorin paused and Bilbo heard him take a few more steps and then a slight thump as he sat, probably on the floor by Frodo’s bed. “He is very strong and very clever. He will find his way through this difficulty. And besides, we will make sure he’s alright, won’t we?”

“Yes,” Frodo murmured, “but what if he’s banished?”

“Even if he is banished, you will not lose him.”

“How?” Frodo’s voice was tearful, “I know I can’t really go with you both into the wild. And I know sometimes people who love you can’t stay with you, even when they want to. But I don’t want to lose Uncle Bilbo. I don’t.”

“Dear child, do you think your Uncle Bilbo will let something as small as an order of banishment keep him from seeing you? He will break in Buckland, you watch. He’s got powerful magic on his side, along with a vast well of spite for anyone who tells him he can’t do something.”

“Oh! Thank you very much, Thorin!” Bilbo whispered under his breath.

“He’d really do that?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause.

“I know," Thorin said gently, "I don’t like to see him in such trouble either. And I can’t stand to see him in a jail cell.”

“At least he can break out when he wants to,” Frodo said softly, his voice light as he made little hobbit jokes.

“Yes. But I will not see him held in any prison, even one that he can leave. I will not stand for such things. _I cannot_.”

There was another pause and Bilbo felt tears burning in his eyes. He hadn’t thought how this must be for Thorin- whose father had died in a prison cell.

“Do you think you can sleep now, little one?” came Thorin’s soft low voice.

“Yes, thank you.”

Bilbo took a breath and touched the door knob, a tightness drawing up inside him. If he didn’t leave now he never would. He pushed on, slipping soundlessly through the door and closed it behind him. He stood on the threshold, the cool air and night sounds gentle around him. Once more, he could not make himself move.

_All I want in the world is to turn around and go back in there- to my husband and to that dear child. Leaving them, walking out into the night without them- it’s an impossible task._

“Too bad that’s what I specialize in- impossible tasks! Come Bilbo,” he told himself in a whisper, “This is just one more.”

Bilbo felt tears fall down his cheeks and his chin quivered.

None of the other impossible tasks had hurt him like this.


	7. Chapter 7

> _A Case of Kitchen “Crookery”_
> 
> _Last evening, Mr. Proudfoot, our esteemed Great Smial cook, thought he heard a mid-night prowler in his kitchen- though it was only seven-o’clock- as he sat in his office, making the weekly orders. He got up to see who or what it was. The culprit was a Mr. Grindorol Bracegirdle, the scoundrel lately reported on in this paper! He tried to hide something- no doubt one of Mr. Proudfoots scrumptious baked goods- in his pocket and then made his escape. He also attempted to hide his face but it was a lost cause- Mr. Proudfoot recognized the silly hobbit. Let us print it plainly: Mr. Bracegirdle, if you want a pastie you’ve only to ask. You don’t need to resort to greedy prowling! After all this isn’t Bree._
> 
> _-Tookland Weekly Observer_

* * *

  
“But my husband has an alibi,” Thorin said forcefully, “he was at the party for Paladin Took, witnessed by many.”

“From seven o’clock onward, yes,” came Adalgrim’s voice, “but the cufflinks went missing between noon, when the guard passed through to make their checks and nine o’clock, when the evening guard made their rounds.

“Oh dear, it doesn’t sound as if Thorin is getting very far with him,” Esmeralda observed. She and Saradoc were seated outside Bilbo's cell. Further up the hall, Thorin was speaking with Adalgrim, who had lately been appointed jailer by Fontinbras. He had now taken up station in the old constable office.

“So you don’t have any real evidence that you’re innocent?” Esme said, turning back to Bilbo, “And what will you do if you’re found guilty?”

“Well I’m not going to stay here,” Bilbo said.

“Alright, but-”

“I’m still working on a plan,” Bilbo mused, “I’m thinking of escaping and running off to Buckland. He can only arrest me if I’m in the Shire.”

“You silly hobbit, Bilbo,” Esmeralda said. Saradoc groaned.

“There’s treaties,” he said unhappily. “Do not make me have to deal with extradition treaties!”

“Didn’t he offer you banishment?” Esme asked, “take that, and then you can live freely in Buckland.”

“But that’s admitting that I’m guilty- which I’m not- and also-”

“If you’re banished from the Shire you’ll most likely be banished in Buckland too,” Saradoc warned.

“What? I thought you were your own fiefdom?” Bilbo protested. “Are you going to let the Thain tell you to-”

“Bilbo, stop trying to start a war,” Esme growled at him.

“It’s a moot point- banishment is only an option if the cufflinks are returned. And I can’t return what I don’t have.”

“What a riddle,” Saradoc commented. Bilbo sent him a scathing look.

“He got the idea from that pretty little display near the kitchen of course!” came Adalgrim’s voice, “Advertising our anniversary showing of the cufflinks. And besides, of course he knew of them, they were his grandfather’s prize possession.”

“Ah! Impossible hobbit!” came Thorin’s raised voice. Bilbo perked up.

“He’s finally said that to someone other than me,” he said smiling.

“Congratulations,” Saradoc said.

⁂

Bilbo walked down the tunnel, dejected. He was invisible and had just spent the last two hours rummaging through Grindorol’s belongings. He’d found no trace of the cufflinks. He found Thorin, stationed at the cell, keeping a watch out for anyone who might have tried to come down to find Bilbo absent.

“No luck?” Thorin asked as he closed the gate and locked it once more. Bilbo flounced down and took off the ring.

“No luck,” he confirmed. They sat together in silence.

“Let’s think it though, step by step,” Bilbo said slowly, “alright, so last evening, after we told him off, Grindorol comes back here, fuming and confounded by the way we ran verbal circles around him.”

“Hm.”

“So, he walks back toward his room, scheming all the while, racking his brain for a way to get back at me. And what does he see? That display near the kitchens, advertising the exhibition of the cufflinks and other treasures of the Tooks. Well! There’s a prize, the most important item to the Tooks. No hobbit would ever consider stealing such a thing- except for a wild hobbit, polluted by the ideas of the Outside.”

“Hmm.”

“So, how would our friend Grindorol manage such a heist? Have I underestimated him?” Bilbo paused, “well, yes. I think I must have. He is a rather bad cheat, but he is enough of a cheat to fool most hobbits. And the treasury, for all the valuables locked in there, are only protected by a single locked door. More to keep people from wandering in. So Grindorol simply picked the lock.”

“That’s all?”

“Yes. You see,” Bilbo drew a roll of fabric from his coat pocket and let it fall open, “I discovered these in his room.” Thorin stepped close to the bars, peering at the roll. Small pieces of metal were fitted into delicate pockets in the roll.

“Lock picks.”

“Exactly.”

“Despite what you say, it looks as if there is at least one other burglar in the Shire,” Thorin said shaking his head.

“Oh I never said hobbits don’t pick locks. It’s a fairly common skill actually.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Hobbits are nosy and devious,” Bilbo nodded, “often it’s for sneaking in places to listen to private conversations, and as I said, there is a bit of burglary when it comes to food- slipping into some hated relation’s larder to steal the choicest bits of cheese and mushrooms and wine is fairly common. Oh yes, lock picking is a skill of many a young naughty hobbit.”

“So he picked the lock and broke into the treasury” Thorin said, “but where is the proof?”

“Well, I thought this roll of lock picks might do.”

“But if it’s a common skill…”

“Yes. There is that,” Bilbo sighed and took a seat. After a moment he resumed his narrative. “So he picks the lock, steals the cufflinks, and he makes his escape through the kitchen, located across from the treasury. He made his mistake there. He didn’t want to be witnessed at the scene of the crime, so he avoided the regular hallways, and he thought the kitchen would be deserted as the kitchen staff have their dinner at seven, it should have been deserted. But the old cook was up there doing the accounts and he was witnessed by the cook putting something in his pocket. The cook of course drew the wrong conclusion- that it was the regular most hobbity crime of food pilfering.” Bilbo paused shaking his head, “We have his means and motive and opportunity,” he muttered, “but we don’t have the key piece of evidence- the cufflinks themselves!”

“Do you suppose we could bring what we have to the Thain, might it be enough?” Thorin asked.

“I suppose it will have to be. But I think without the links, our case is not very strong. Everything that we have is circumstantial,” Bilbo sighed, “and I have searched that room from top to bottom. I don’t know where the links are, but he’s not hiding them there.”

“Perhaps he keeps them on his person,” Thorin mused. “We could have him searched.”

“We’ll hope that works.”

⁂

It did not. The search was carried out- Thorin’s insistence to Adalgrim made sure that it happened, and Grindorol was thoroughly searched, without prior warning, by the Hobbitry-in-arms. But the search was fruitless. Thorin reported all this to Bilbo, later in the day while Adalgrim brought him his tea.

“Where could the cufflinks be then?” Bilbo fumed.

“He must have hidden them somewhere. Some place of safekeeping.”

“We can’t search all of Tookland,” Bilbo groaned.

“I admit,” Adalgrim said as he closed the gate and bolted it once more, “he is a hobbit of bad character and I suppose I thought there was a chance he had them. But alas, without the links, Fontinbras will not arrest him.”

“Oh but he’ll arrest me!” Bilbo cried.

“You made your bed, Bilbo Baggins,” Adalgrim growled at him.

“So did he! He’s a damn liar and you know it.”

“But what motive does he have? He can’t sell those links, they’d be instantly recognized. Your motive is much more likely.”

“But it’s madness. And besides, he does have a motive. Framing me!”

“It’s a lot of trouble and risk just to frame you.”

“He did it, Adalgrim.”

“I’m really not convinced that he could. It would take a real burglar to break into the Treasury and escape without notice.”

“It takes one correctly sized lockpick and a bit of skill,” Bilbo sighed.

“I shouldn’t offer up that knowledge as your evidence,” Adagrim said.

⁂

They were out of time. The inquest would begin the next day. That evening, Bilbo sat in his cell, back against the wall, leaning against the bars, his arm out, holding Thorin’s hand. Frodo dozed in his lap.

“We’re just going to have to do the best we can,” Bilbo said quietly into the cold silent air. Thorin leaned down, pressing himself to the bars in an effort to get closer to him. Bilbo pulled his hand up and kissed it.

“We can’t even convince Adalgrim though,” Thorin whispered.

“Hm. Well. Maybe Fontinbras will listen,” Bilbo said, but he didn’t believe it.

“If they convict you, have you given any thought to where we might go?” Thorin said very quietly. Bilbo blinked, trying not to cry. As much as he tried to pretend otherwise, he was scared of the idea of never being able to live as a free hobbit in the Shire. And he was deeply wounded that he would never set foot into the home that his father had built and blessed him with. He could never make memories there with Thorin. He could never make memories there with Frodo.

“Buckland,” Bilbo whispered. “I know Saradoc has said some discouraging things, but when it comes down to it, I don’t think he’d really send me back to face prison. I think if he was forced to then he would at least give me a warning and enough time to flee. I think we could be safe there for a time.”

He felt Frodo curl tighter into a ball and glancing down, saw tears rolling down his cheeks. He put his free arm around Frodo, holding him close.

“It’s alright, lad,” he murmured gently, “whatever happens, it will be alright.”

“I want you to be able to go home,” Frodo whispered. Bilbo put his hand on Frodo’s head and said the only thing he knew to say.

“It will be alright. Everything will be alright.”


	8. Chapter 8

> _Trial of the Age_
> 
> _The criminal Bilbo Baggins will be tested TODAY._
> 
> _Upon whether the mysterious Bilbo Baggins, said to be a resident of Hobbiton, is a bona fide person, or whether he is a myth used to assist in the perpetration of a fraud and a crime shall be only one part of the interesting case to be heard before the Thain, today._
> 
> _Of course everyone knows the tale by now, the dastardly theft of the prize cufflinks. If you want to hear the hobbit answer for his crimes, attend the trial and see first hand!_
> 
> _-Tookland Daily Observer  
> _

* * *

  
Bilbo stood before the Thain’s court, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to look calm and collected as Adalgrim read out the charges against him. The hobbits who stared back at him from the gallery were hobbits he’d grown up with, attended parties with. He was related to more than half of them. They were peering at him with looks of morbid curiosity.

“I admit,” Adalgrim said as he reached the end of the charges, “the Bilbo Baggins I knew who lived in Hobbiton would never have done such a thing, but this hobbit? I’m not so sure. If he is Bilbo then he’s very changed. Would the old Bilbo have gone off wandering and trouble making? Would he have told children stories of his misdeeds and made a sport of teaching them to follow in his footsteps? Would the old Bilbo we all knew, the quiet bookish predictable fellow, would he have married a Dwarf?” Bilbo’s head snapped around and he felt himself overwhelmed with protective fury. It was only the promise he’d made to Thorin that he would not shout out curses at anyone during the trial that kept him silent.

“He is changed,” Fortinbras said slowly, “undeniably changed.”

“Is it against hobbit law to change?” Thorin asked, his voice deceptively light. Bilbo blinked and turned to look at him. Fortinbras considered the question.

“No, it is not,” he said and shifted his attention to Bilbo, “Well Bilbo, what have you to say for yourself? How do you answer the charges?”

“I may seem to be changed,” Bilbo said quietly. He paused, frowning, trying to remember everything that he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. “Yet, I remain Bilbo Baggins. I am what I have always been. The outlandishness and the strangeness have always been a part of me. My Took side, don’t you know. But it was buried before. I tried so hard to be tidy and fit myself into the place made for me in Hobbiton. It’s just that I’ve seen now that there is more to life than being a good little fellow. And there are things and people worth taking a risk for.” He paused once more and looked at Thorin. Thorin gazed back, looking extremely proud. Bilbo went on, “that is the change you are seeing.”

“I wonder then, if you still fit into that place made for you in Hobbiton,” Adalgrim said, “you may no longer be suited to life in the Shire.”

“The Shire is big enough for all sorts,” Fortinbras said in a low voice, “even those whose hearts have learned wildness.” The court room was silent. Fortinbras continued, “Bilbo, how do you answer the charges of theft against the Tooks?”

“I am not guilty of theft against the Tooks. I did not steal the diamond studded cufflinks,” Bilbo said.

“Very well then,” Fortinbras sighed, “We will break for luncheon and then meet once more to hear each side.”

Bilbo let out a breath and took a seat. The soft murmur of conversation rose, but Bilbo felt very unhappy. He wished they could just get it all over with.

Thorin came and sat beside him and Bilbo took his hand. They sat together in silence, neither feeling much like eating. Bilbo lifted his head and was about to speak when movement caught his eye.

Saradoc was walking quickly up to the Thain’s bench, Frodo bounding along behind him. As Saradoc addressed the Thain he bent and lifted Frodo up and set him against his hip so that Frodo could speak to the Thain as well.

“What’s this?” Thorin asked softly in Bilbo's ear.

“I’m not certain,” Bilbo said quietly.

The Thain raised a hand and the guards at the back went suddenly to the doors and shut them. A hush fell over the gathered hobbits.

“My good hobbits,” Fortinbras said, and paused, nodding to Thorin, “and my good Dwarf,” he added, “I ask your indulgence for just a moment. Please remain in your seats. Now,” he motioned to the nearest guard. “Please hold Mr. Grindorol Bracguirdle.”

Grindorol sat bolt upright, sputtering.

“What is this?” he demanded.

“I beg your pardon, Grindorol,” Fortinbras said, “but we must search you.” The guard and Adalgrim both moved in.

“Oh this again?” Grindorol cried, “I see that you still haven’t anything better to do than hassle me, Adalgrim Took!”

“That’s right,” Adalgrim said.

“Well! This is an outrage, but go on then! Search me once more and a hundred times more! You’ll not find anything. You’ve got the real crook there,” he pointed to Bilbo. “Just who has made this claim against me?” his eyes went to Saradoc and Frodo.

“Never you mind it,” Fortinbras said, “and we’ll hassle you as often as we like while you’re in Tookland and showing yourself to be a nuisance. Go on Adalgrim.”

Bilbo watched, just as riveted as the rest of the crowd. What was this? What was Frodo up to? He looked over at the boy, who met his eyes and gave him an indecipherable look. It only made Bilbo more curious.

“When this is finished I will haul both of you before the Mayor,” Grindolrol said nastily as Adalgrim searched his pockets, “I am a citizen of the Shire. I do not lose all my rights just because I venture into Tookland.”

Adalgrim’s back straightened and he drew his hand out. The hobbit was quivering.

“Adalgrim?” Fortinbras called. The jailer opened his hand, and there in his palm were two small twinkling cufflinks.

The room erupted into cries.

 _Frodo Baggins, you clever clever child!_ Bilbo thought. He didn’t understand what he was seeing, or how Frodo could have possibly intervened, but in his heart he knew the boy had a hand in it.

“No, this is,” Grindorol was sputtering in disbelief, “this is incorrect! Impossible!”

Adalgrim stepped up to the Thain’s bench and put the cuff links in Fortinbras’ hand. The Thain held the little links and stared at them. He rolled his sleeve up, and placed one of the links into the little button holes. There was an audible snap as the link fastened itself.

“The diamond cufflinks of the Old Took have returned!” Fortinbras cried. The room erupted into cheers. Fortinbras stood up, scowling down at Grindorol.

“Do you want to tell me why the Old Took’s cufflinks were in your pocket, Mr. Grindorol Bracegirdle?”

“I will not stand for this defamation to my character!” Grindorol cried, “slander! Foul slander!”

“Oh hush,” Adalgrim barked at him, “you are a liar and a cheat. And worse,” he turned to Bilbo, “you’ve made me admit that Bilbo Baggins was right.” He took his hat off and made a little bow to Bilbo.

“I’ve been framed! The cufflinks were planted there!” Grindorol howled.

“Oh poo Grindorol,” Adalgrim barked, “Bilbo has been locked up since the party. You’re not suggesting he’s done this? And his husband, begging your pardon Mr. Oakenshield, he doesn't seem like the sort to do much sneaking up on a hobbit.”

Grindirol sputtered in indignation. Then his eyes moved to Frodo.

“That. That _child_!” Grindorol cried, pointing at Frodo. Bilbo felt himself stiffen, nearly ready to leap across the table if Grindorol took a step toward Frodo. “He’s behind it! He’s a little reprobate, ask anyone. And he’s been keeping bad company with Bilbo Baggins, learning the foul trade of thievery. It’s him or his Uncle Bilbo that stole the links and then this child, he’s planted the links on me, I tell you! It’s a conspiracy! _A Baggins conspiracy_!”

Fortinbras paused and glanced down at Frodo. Frodo looked up, and he was the perfect picture of an innocent babe. Bilbo watched him in admiration. Fortinbras was, however, unimpressed.

“Frodo Baggins is indeed the accuser against Grindorol. Now, Master Frodo, I know your reputation and your deeds, so don’t give me an act, lad.” He paused as Frodo regarded him. “You told me the other night that you stole the cufflinks,” the Thain said severely, “were you telling the truth?” The perfect innocence fell away and Frodo met his eyes, regarding the old hobbit. The boy shook his head.

“I was not, sir. I told you an untruth that night.”

“I understood that. You did it to protect your Uncle.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Because you lied, I have a hard time deciding if you are truthful now. What you say is very suspect, because you could still be trying to protect your Uncle, do you understand my dilemma?”

“Yes, sir.”

“If I may,” Saradoc said quietly. The Thain nodded.

“Frodo may have a reputation,” Saradoc said, “but I believe him in this. He really is a good boy. He cares very deeply for those close to him, to the point of doing foolish things sometimes, yes, but he remains a very good lad. I think he understands how important it is that he tells the truth to you now.”

“Very well,” Fortinbras paused then looked down at Frodo again. “Did you or your uncle steal the cufflinks from the treasury and frame an innocent hobbit as he claims?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh, that boy is a liar!” Grindorol shouted.

“You will not speak of my ward that way!” Saradoc said angrily.

“Everyone knows he’s a horrible little wiley creature. The whole reason you Brandybucks came here was to seek help with his insolent thieving ways.”

“I believe him,” Saradoc said. Thain Fortinbras was silent for a moment.

“Frodo Baggins is not on trial here,” he said, “incidentally, I believe him as well, though I should never trust him to keep out of our mushroom meadows,” he growled down at the boy, “I would trust him in all other ways. He tells the truth in this.”

Frodo took a breath, a flush of joy in his face. Fortinbras turned his attention to Bilbo.

“Bilbo Baggins, you are free to go.”

“Thank you, Thain,” Bilbo said.

“Come along,” Adalgrim gripped Grindorol’s shoulder and tugged him along. “You can have Bilbo’s cell until it’s time for your trial!” he said cheerfully.

“Thank you all!” Fortinbras called, “Trial adjourned!”

The crowd began to murmur once more, excited by all the action.

Bilbo wasted no more time; he bolted down to the front where Saradoc and Frodo stood near the Thain’s bench.

“Frodo, lad,” Bilbo cried as Frodo ran to him. “Whatever has happened?” he asked, delighted.

“Frodo came to me a little while ago,” Saradoc said, “and told me that he’d seen Grindorol outside the Great Hall after second breakfast. He said he watched him take a pair of some small jewelry from his coat pocket and admire it. He said it shone and sparkled in the same way that his Uncle Thorin’s diamond bracelet sparkles, so he knew what Grindorol held must be diamond!” Bilbo blinked, feeling mystified. He was missing some piece of the story still. “I had to wait until there was a break in the trial,” Saradoc said apologetically, “they wouldn’t let us in, you see. But I knew that we must report what Frodo saw.”

“Thank you,” Frodo said, looking up at Saradoc, “for believing me, and for speaking up for me.”

“Of course, Frodo,” Saradoc said, and picked him up once more, embracing the boy. “You did very well, lad.” Frodo smiled faintly.

“Thank you,” he said.

⁂

The crowd dwindled eventually, though it took a very long time. Bilbo stuck around, busy receiving congratulations. Saradoc, Esmeralda- who had joined them at this point- and Frodo lingered as well, as Saradoc retold his and Frodo’s part in the whole drama. Frodo grew tired of this quickly and made his way to Thorin, asking to be picked up so that he could listen to all the hobbits congratulate Bilbo. Among one of the last groups of well wishers were Eglantine and Paladin Took.

“Hello there Paladin!” Bilbo said happily, “I had meant to welcome you back, but well, I got a little busy.”

“Busy! Ha!” Paladin laughed heartily, “I like that. And you're going to welcome me back? I should be welcoming you back! I hear you’ve been out to all sorts of places. I’m really very jealous and I want to hear all about it and all about this fellow!” Paladin said looking up at Thorin. “I hear you are a king.”

“He’s King Under the Mountain and a lot of other titles besides,” Bilbo sniffed, “show some respect, you silly hobbit.” Paladin laughed.

“If you are a friend of Bilbo’s then you may call me Thorin,” Thorin said.

“I’m very pleased to meet you,” Paladin said. Thorin turned to Bilbo.

“Was this the hobbit who you said was a childhood friend of yours? Who might be able to provide some proof of your identity?” he asked. Bilbo nodded.

“I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale,” he said to Paladin, “when we have a moment, that is. I am hoping you can give me a bit of help with another matter.”

“Oh yes, I heard about your difficulty!” Paladin cried enthusiastically. “My wife and I puzzled through the question for quite a long time, but I believe I have the solution!”

“What?” Bilbo blinked, startled.

“Fortinbras!” Paladin called. The Thain turned and blinked at him. “I have something to report, regarding the identity of this hobbit.” Fortinbras brightened. The cluster of hobbits he’d been speaking with excused themselves, leaving, as Fortinbras approached the small group.

“Ah, so at last, a witness on behalf of Bilbo Baggins,” Fortinbras said, “very well, what is the proof?” Paladrin grinned and turned to Bilbo.

“Oh cousin Bilbo, _if that is your real name_ ,” he chuckled, “there was a certain nickname I gave you when we were tweens- one I crafted after discovering a certain item in your possession.” Bilbo went still and the smile dropped off his face. “It was a nickname that- as far as I know- only you and I knew, because you threatened to pummel me if you ever heard me call you that. Is that right?”

“Damn it,” Bilbo growled under his breath and turned to Thorin. “Take Frodo away. Please.”

“No! I want to hear!” Frodo protested.

“I promise I’ll give you a full account someday,” Bilbo said.

“When?” Frodo asked suspiciously.

“In twenty years time,” Bilbo said, “go on!”

Thorin and Frodo exchanged a look.

“Is he joking?” Frodo asked.

“I doubt it,” Thorin said as he walked out, “Come, we’ll go and look at the gardens.”

Bilbo waited until Thorin and Frodo were firmly gone then he stepped closer to Fortinbras and muttered the name under his breath.

“Speak up, I’m an old man,” Fortinbras complained. Bilbo gritted his teeth. The old man was doing this on purpose he suspected.

“ _Dildo Baggins_ ,” Bilbo said. Fortinbras blinked then snorted and Paladin beamed. “Yes, very funny Paladin,” Bilbo growled in disdain, “the absolute height of tween humor.”

“Is that it?” Fortinbras asked. Paladin nodded.

“That’s it! That’s what I called him!” he crowed.

“What’s a dildo?” Saradoc asked.

“I’ll explain it to you later,” Esmeralda said.

“Alright, Bilbo, I believe you,” Fortinbras chuckled.

“You should open a shop,” Eglantine cried, “Dildo Baggins Emporium.”

“Finest straps this side of the Water!” Paladin snorted.

“A useful tool for every hobbit’s hole!”

“You two think you're very clever,” Bilbo glared at them.

“Oh this is a sex thing, isn’t it?” Saradoc asked.

Bilbo was too thoroughly disgusted with all of them to find any of it the least bit funny.

“So can I have my name back?” Bilbo asked. Fortinbras nodded.

“I’ll have the proclamation made up in the morning, ready for a seal.”

“Thank you very much!” Bilbo said. “And I mean that to all of you. I’ll be in a better humor about the whole thing later on and I promise a magnificent party to thank you all. But for now, I think I’d like to just go have a bit of quiet time with my husband. Thank you all once more!” he made a small bow and went quickly out.

“Fucking Tooks,” Bilbo hissed under his breath as he passed out into the hallway. Though he cursed them, his good humor was beginning to return and Bilbo felt himself smile. He didn’t quite understand it all just yet, but his fortunes had completely turned around in the space of a an hour. Besides Paladin, he thought he had another hobbit to thank for that turn in fortune.

⁂

Bilbo found Thorin and Frodo in the east gardens, admiring the clematis.

“Frodo Baggins,” Bilbo called. Frodo turned back.

“Yes sir?”

“I have several questions for you, lad. But first, what was all that about your Uncle Thorin’s diamond bracelet?” he asked pointedly. Frodo went quiet.

“Yes, I was surprised to hear I have such a thing,” Thorin said good naturedly. Frodo’s gaze went to his toes.

“Come on then, lad, _how did you do it_?”

“Do what?”

“Don’t play innocent,” Bilbo chuckled, “You are very good at it, but I can see through that act of yours. When Grindorol was searched he had no idea those cufflinks were in his pocket, did he? I think we have you to thank.”

“Frodo!” Thorin cried. “You lied to your Thain?”

“I did not!” Frodo cried fiercely. “He asked if me or Uncle Bilbo stole the links and we didn’t, and he asked if I framed an innocent hobbit for the crime- and again I didn’t!”

“But you had a hand in this,” Bilbo pressed. Frodo dug his toes in the dirt. “Come on, lad.”

“Well. I did ensure the links would be _found_ in his pocket,” Frodo admitted. “But he had them! I wasn’t framing him for a crime he didn’t commit!”

“You found them? My dear boy, where were they, and how did you manage it?” Bilbo asked.

“It wasn’t much,” Frodo demurred. Bilbo gave him a look. “I did what you said, I observed the situation before I plunged in.”

“Good thinking,” Thorin said cautiously.

“I noticed that Grindorol wore the same pair of britches for two days in a row,” Frodo said, “and he’s a dandy so I thought it was a bit out of character. So I broke into his room last night and stole his britches off the chair where they were hung, ready for wearing the next day.” Thorin groaned.

“You broke into his room?” he asked. Frodo blinked, looking far too innocent.

“Not just that, I searched those pants while I was there, and soon enough I found the cufflinks- or rather, felt them- sewn into a small pouch on the inside of the back waistband.”

“That’s why he wasn’t caught when he was searched!” Bilbo said, pleased.

“I knew I couldn’t just steal them- it would look as if I or perhaps more probably, that Uncle Bilbo had stolen the cufflinks after all, and that I was merely returning them.”

“What did you do then?”

“I had to think a bit- I tried to plan ahead, the way you taught me. I retreated for the moment, and gathered supplies. I found two small pebbles and I took bits from my Aunt’s sewing kit. I returned to Grindorol’s room and got to work. I cut the thread from his improvised pocket and retrieved the cufflinks. I pocketed them and put the pebbles in their place. I sewed the pocket back up, careful to mimic his work. Then I left and I waited until this morning.

Grindorol has second breakfast in the Great Hall each morning. The Great Hall is a wonderful place for pickpocketing, at least for a pickpocket like myself. No one pays any attention to a small hobbit crawling around on the floor or slipping by guests. But instead of taking something from his pocket, I planted the cufflinks in his jacket pocket. He didn’t feel a thing, thanks to my burglar training.”

“You clever clever child!” Bilbo breathed in admiration.

“I only had to hope he wouldn’t put his hand in his pocket,” Frodo smiled, “but as he had nothing there, I had to hope he wouldn’t have reason to reach inside, and the cufflinks are small things luckily, so he would not feel them otherwise.

Then it was only a matter of waiting until he came to the trial, as I knew he would, to gloat over his bad work. I had to get the help of my Uncle Saradoc in approaching the Thain to report Grindorol, for I doubt the Thain would have taken action on only my words. At least Uncle Saradoc was good enough to accompany me. I also think it was very lucky that Mr. Adalgrim was there, for he seems to have a particular dislike for Mr. Grindorol and was all too eager to urge the Thain to have Gridorol searched one more time. And Grindorol didn’t protest too much, you noticed - as he had no reason to fear their search, or so he thought.”

“Frodo, you are simply amazing,” Bilbo said.

“We are very appreciative,” Thorin said, “and we would not be where we are now without your valiant efforts, but dear child, you took some risks.” Bilbo nodded and took a seat on the garden bench, peering at Frodo.

“I think that’s the reason you kept us in the dark about this, isn’t it?”

“I didn’t take more risks than I usually do,” Frodo said softly.

“Oh I think breaking into a known criminal’s bedroom while he was there asleep, and twice, counts as taking more risk than your dalliances in mushroom fields,” Bilbo said.

“Oh. Maybe,” Frodo said quietly, “so, should I have told you?”

“I wish you had,” Bilbo said gently.

“But then you would have stopped me,” Frodo murmured.

“Have we stopped you before?” Bilbo asked. Frodo pondered this and shook his head.

“But this is a bit different.”

“It’s possible that we might stop you from doing something terribly dangerous, but I think for this,” Bilbo paused, “I think we would have taken steps to make sure you were safe. We recognize that you have talents, and cleverness, and daring as well as great determination. But I think we would have preferred that you did not do this alone. I could have been there with you, invisible and ready to get you out of there if he woke.”

“Oh,” Frodo said softly.

“If there are things we can do to help protect you, then we will. Always,” Thorin added.

“We co-conspirators have to look out for each other,” Bilbo smiled. Frodo laughed lightly.

“Agreed!” the boy said, adding, “so don’t worry Uncle Bilbo, I’ll always find a way to fix your messes.”

“You cheeky little thing!” Bilbo growled as Frodo giggled and hugged him.

“Can we have luncheon?” he asked.

“Yes!” Bilbo cried, “come on, let’s have luncheon. A very good luncheon. I am suddenly ravenous!”

Together the three of them walked out of the garden. The weather promised to be nice and Bilbo was so looking forward to a golden afternoon outside and in the company of Thorin and Frodo.


	9. Chapter 9

> _NOTICE TO THE SACKVILLE-BAGGINSES_
> 
> _I am back._
> 
> _\- signed Bilbo Baggins, Master of Bag End_
> 
> _The editor requests that this notice be reprinted in the Hobbiton-Bywater Weekly Leader_

* * *

Bilbo and Thorin stood before the Thain’s desk as the old hobbit dipped his quill in red ink, and signed the parchment, before passing it into Bilbo’s waiting hands.

“I’ll send a copy on to the Mayor and to the West Farthing Deed Office,” Fortinbras said.

“Thank you, once more,” Bilbo said, his eyes moving down the flowing script. “This means a great deal to me, Fortinbras.”

“You are welcome,” Fortinbras said, “and sorry for tossing you in prison.” Bilbo glanced up and saw the Tookish light of mischief in the hobbit’s eyes.

“You are forgiven, if there is anything to forgive,” Bilbo said. He sensed a strong aura of disapproval from Thorin and slipped his free hand into his husband’s.

“I really do hope you both visit again,” Fortinbras said. “It’s been more lively around here than it has been in some years. And I still haven’t heard the whole tale of your adventures.”

“We’ll have to have you at Bag End some time and I promise we will give you the whole tale.”

“Bag End,” Forinbras mused, “Now there is a place I have not been in a long time.” He paused, adding, “I suppose that is your next item of business? Retaking it? Then, you’ll be leaving us?” Bilbo took a breath and looked up at Thorin, meeting his eyes.

“Ah, well, there is one more thing we’ve got to do.”

⁂

It didn’t happen quickly. Over the course of a few weeks, as Bilbo began filing all the necessary paperwork to have himself declared alive again, Saradoc and Esmeralda would come to Bilbo and Thorin’s cottage and talk long into the night. Thorin and Bilbo had made their offer plain- they would adopt Frodo if the Brandybucks agreed to it.

“Primula was my aunt. My dearest sweetest aunt,” Saradoc said one night, “And looking after her child is our duty. Certainly, after what happened. She and Drogo were at the Hall, visiting us, you see, when it happened.”

“Sara,” Esme murmured and slipped her arms around him.

“It was an accident,” Bilbo said softly.

“That doesn’t make it any better,” he said. There was silence. Saradoc sipped the herb tea that Bilbo had passed around. “But insisting on caring for him out of a sense of duty or guilt isn’t right either. Not when there is a better place for the boy, with you two. You’re both so good with him and seem to understand what he needs.”

“That’s very generous of you to say,” Bilbo smiled, “I’m not sure it’s all true.”

“Certainly, we will always do our best for Frodo,” Thorin added.

“I can’t claim to understand parenting,” Bilbo sighed, “but we have the time to devote to him.”

“And we do not,” Saradoc said bitterly.

“It’s not a judgement,” Thorin said softly, “You have a heavy duty laid upon your shoulders. Don’t add to it by piling on guilt and anger at yourself. You can only do so much.”

“And we want so to help you with this,” Bilbo added.

“There will always be a sense of duty to Frodo in our hearts,” Eseralda said, “and certainly we will always love him, and we want to be there for him.” She paused, “I don’t want him to forget us. Nor to forget Merry.”

“You are all welcome in Bag End at any time,” Bilbo said.

“And you all are always welcome at Brandy Hall,” Saradoc said. There was silence.

“Then I suppose, it’s come time to talk to Frodo about this,” Esme said.

⁂

The next day, Bilbo brought Frodo over for tea with him and Thorin, and the three of them sat down together.

“Frodo,” Bilbo said carefully, “once we’ve settled all the matters with Bag End, what would you think about coming to live with me and Thorin?” Frodo went still and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Live with you?”

“You don’t have to decide now!” Bilbo said quickly, “And we could perhaps try it before you need decide. And of course, that’s only if you feel like you even want to try it-”

“Please, please let me come live with you!” Frodo cried and jumped up to throw his arms around Bilbo. Bilbo gasped and hugged him back.

“You really want to?”

“Of course I do!” Frodo cried and ran over to Thorin, who pulled him up into an embrace.

“Oh,” Bilbo smiled, relieved.

“But what about the Brandybucks?” Frodo asked.

“We’ve been talking to them,” Bilbo said. “We think we’ve worked out a plan. You’ll still see them quite often.”

“They don’t want me?” Frodo asked quietly.

“That’s not it at all,” Thorin said, “they’ll tell you how they feel of course, but they’ve made it very plain to us that they love you and want to be a part of your life. They want what is best for you.”

“They thought you might be happier, living with us,” Bilbo added. “And we. Well. We thought so too. And we,” he paused, aware of how much he was sputtering, “we’re so very fond of you. Besides, it’s just better since we have the same birthday. Saves all the traveling back and forth to celebrate it. We can just have one massive party this way.” Frodo blinked at him from his perch on Thorin’s knee.

“Don’t let his talk fool you,” Thorin murmured, “He’s trying to say that he loves you.” Frodo laughed.

“Oh, I’m not fooled. I know what Uncle Bilbo means to say.”

“Yes well,” Bilbo said, reddening, “we’re planning on having dinner with the Brandybucks and we’ll continue this conversation then. In the meantime, think it over and let us know if you have questions.”

“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll have a few,” Frodo said as he hopped down and went back to his seat to resume his place.

⁂

That evening, they all sat down in the Brandybuck’s chambers and ate dinner together. Frodo wasted little time and brought the subject up as soon as the food was on the table. He turned to his aunt and uncle.

“Do you want me to go with Uncle Bilbo and Uncle Thorin?” he asked them quietly. The two Brandybucks looked stricken at the question.

“We want you to live where you’ll have the best care,” Saradoc said softly. “We don’t want you to leave us, but we also know that they can take care of you better than we can.”

“What do you think of it, Frodo?” Esmeralda asked him.

“I want to go and live with them,” Frodo said, “I think that I should. I don’t want to hurt your feelings though. And if I do live with them, then I know that I will miss you all very much.”

“Oh my dear,” Esmeralda said, “you mustn’t worry so about us. This is your life. And we would miss you terribly too, but then that’s why we will come see you.”

“If this all proceeds as planned,” Saradoc said, “then we will be staying at Bag End for several weeks to help you get settled. And even after that, we will come visit you often and you can come to Brandy Hall whenever you like.”

“We’ll see a lot of each other,” Esme promised, “Just because we aren’t with you every day, that doesn’t mean we aren’t thinking of you. And it doesn’t mean that you won’t have a home with us whenever you like. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Frodo said quietly, “Uncle Bilbo explained it- that I could have many homes. Pieces of home wherever I’ve friends and family.”

“Oh. Precisely,” Saradoc said, pleased.

“Then when are we leaving for Bag End?” Frodo asked, turning to Bilbo and Thorin.

“I am evicting the Sackville-Baggines this week,” Bilbo said cheerfully, “so any time after that. I’ll be making a trip at the end of this week with Thorin anyway. Take stock of the place.”

“I want to come!” Frodo said. Bilbo glanced at the Brandybucks.

“That’s quite alright with us,” Esmeralda said, “then we could follow a day or so after? Or is that too soon?”

“It depends, I assume the Sackville-Bagginses will take off with as many of my furnishings as they can. If you follow on that quickly you might run the risk of having to sleep on the floor.”

“I think we’ll chance it!” Esmeralda laughed.

⁂

On the appointed day, Bilbo and Thorin walked down the road, as Frodo ran out ahead.

“Is that it?” Frodo cried as the Hill came into view. He ran back to Thorin and reached up. Thorin bent down and scooped the boy up, setting him on his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Bilbo confirmed. “The Hill and Row and there at the top, our home, Bag End!”

Frodo squealed and leapt off Thorin’s shoulder. Thorin cried out in alarm and caught Frodo in mid air, setting him down as he grumbled out a soft scolding. They walked quicker, coming to the base of the hill. Bilbo spotted two figures walking along the grassy slope. They were not, to his delight, the Sackville-Bagginses, but rather his gardener and apprentice gardener.

“Oh! Hello!” Bilbo cried waving. The two hobbits paused to wave back. The apprentice dropped his wheelbarrow and bolted down the hill.

“Mr. Bilbo!” The hobbit cried, “have you really come back? For good?”

“I really have come back! And for good,” Bilbo laughed.

“Bless you!”

“Oh, what’s this Hamfast?” Bilbo teased, “didn’t care for the Sackville-Baggins?” The apprentice gardener’s eyes widened.

“I’d not speak out of turn, Mr. Bilbo,” he said, “except I must say that was a hard thing leaving us to those relations of yours, begging your pardon and all.”

“That it was,” the older gardener added as he approached.

“I am very sorry, to both of you,” Bilbo said, “I did not mean to. I never intended for Bag End to pass to them.”

“See it don’t happen again.” Holman said sternly.

“On my honor,” Bilbo pledged and bowed. Holman nodded, satisfied and moved his gaze up to Thorin, tipping his hat. Thorin nodded to him politely.

“And who is this?” Hamfast asked, peering down at Frodo.

“Our ward, Frodo Baggins.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Master Frodo,” Hamfast said. Frodo blinked up at the gardener and offered his hand.

“And I’m pleased to meet you too, Master Hamfast.”

“Oh, Gamgee will do, sir,” Ham said, kindly.

“Master Gamgee, then,” Frodo said. Ham drew in a surprised breath.

“What a polite young lad!” he said, delighted. “Hello again Mr. Oakenshield!”

“Sir,” Thorin nodded, “how does your wife fare? Is she still with child?”

Hamfast beamed.

“Nay. You two aren’t the only ones with a new addition to the family. Do you all want to meet him?” Hamfast asked with evident pride.

“Yes of course!” Bilbo said, “it won’t take long,” he said to Thorin and Frodo, “Hamfast lives down on the Row, just under the Hill.”

Together the four set off, walking down to Number Three. Hamfast entered, ushering them in, calling out that he’d brought visitors. His wife stood and welcomed them. Bilbo was pleased to see that she looked well.

“He’s just woken up,” Bell said and bent to lift a small bundle out of the cradle she’d been rocking by her chair. She walked over to their small group, presenting the baby to them.

“He’s a handsome little thing!” Bilbo smiled as the baby gazed up at him with large brown eyes.

“I want to see,” Frodo whispered to Bilbo. Bilbo bent and lifted him up. Thorin leaned in close to peer at the baby. He held his finger out for the baby to grab, and grab it the baby did. Bell chuckled.

“Watch him,” she said. The baby tightened his grip on Thorin’s finger, drawing it quick to his mouth. Thorin laughed, his voice warm with fondness.

“My people say that is a sign of fierceness,” he said.

“Oh, I hope not,” Bell laughed.

“What’s his name?” Bilbo murmured, reaching out with his free hand to pet the baby’s soft downy curls.

“Samwise,” Hamfast said proudly.

“Oh,” Bilbo said, and tried to think of something polite to say. Frodo frowned.

“Doesn’t that mean-”

“He’s a very nice little lad isn’t he, Frodo?” Bilbo cut in quickly.

“Yes,” Frodo agreed.

⁂

They left Number Three after promising to have the Gamgees up to Bag End once the grand smial was fit for company. As they walked up the hill Frodo lagged behind.

“Carry me, Uncle Bilbo?” he asked.

“Oh very well,” Bilbo said and lifted Frodo up, holding him against his hip as they continued up the path. “Someday you’re going to be too big for me to carry, you know.”

“Then Uncle Thorin will carry me,” Frodo said confidently. Bilbo snorted.

“I suppose so.”

“Absolutely,” Thorin smiled. Together they walked up the path and climbed the brick steps, passing under the arched bower. Bilbo drew out a large metal key and fitted it into the lock, opening the large green door. He ushered his husband and ward inside and then followed them in, shutting the door behind him.

At last, he was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading : ) I really enjoyed writing this little story about Bilbo finding his home. There is a bit of cover art for this story [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/8600bafe3d9b4f6ee4f2d8dd4c0e1164/2e1fe3f4905a9949-4b/s1280x1920/304c1028cc08f3e7260759775e2f5b7a39c38e3e.png). Thanks again for reading<3


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